


Marigolds

by marsroverVEVO



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Y'all this is gonna hurt, im really sorry but also i need to fill a void in my heart, post ep 26, this ones for you morgan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-01-27 02:35:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21384664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsroverVEVO/pseuds/marsroverVEVO
Summary: Caleb struggles to come to terms with being alone while the Nein try to come to terms with being without Caleb. It turns out that neither of them can do too well without the other.The title was changed from "Ich halte dich fest" to "Marigolds" because there's a beautiful song by Kishi Bashi with the same name! Marigolds also symbolize jealousy and grief and that fits just a little too well.**Post-Episode 26 with major spoilers regarding episode 26**
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Caduceus Clay/Caleb Widogast, Fjord & Jester Lavorre, Mollymauk Tealeaf & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 23
Kudos: 99





	1. Hole in the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> i made a playlist to go along with this fic! please check it out and let me know what you think!  
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Z7oaXTfeMzFlPmJAG1PV8

For the longest time things seemed like they were going to be okay, but just like that, they weren’t. There is no simple way to explain what had happened to Caleb Widogast. There was no harrowing tale of redemption and success. No underdog set to win the fight or unforeseen success that would alter the world as it was known. All that was left was a man who had given more than he was capable of and worse off because of it. But these days, Caleb sat tucked away into a tavern corner nursing one stale beer after another. For the first time in a long, he couldn’t expect an interruption from a nosy monk or an enthusiastic tiefling. He never thought he would miss them but emotions can be deceiving. Turning a spell-book page, he let his eyes drift over the words without bothering to read a single one.

Life had been unpredictable with the Mighty Nein. Caleb didn’t do unpredictable. Nott was at least consistent with her treasure-forward-motives and yet he was thrown into a group that made chaos look organized. In the chaos, though, he had found _him_. 

He shivered despite the fire roaring in the hearth. His heart betrayed him, picking up pace in his chest. 

Fire gave and it took all too freely, that much had been made apparent in his life. But then there was _him_. Yet again. Picking at the corners of his mind like a bad itch. _He_ had been fire, but he didn’t burn the same. Caleb clenched his jaw as tears pricked at his eyes. He could still hear his voice, chiming up over the din of the tavern, _‘Mister Caleb’_. He brought a hand to his temples, trying to disguise his pain with feigned concentration. The lump in his throat nearly choked him as he swallowed the rest of his ale. It was all too much. Snapping his book shut, he pushed his way out through the crowd and into the brisk night.

He had hardly made it out the front door before the first tears fell. Walking quickly, he ducked his head to avoid contact with anyone. The small lanterns outside of his cottage lit themselves upon his arrival home. He threw open the door with a flick of his wrist, slamming it the second he crossed the threshold. The edge of the bed creaked as he sat with his head in his hands.

Memories of that last trip played in technicolor despite his best efforts to shove them out of his mind. Beau and Nott stood back to back as they fought off Lorenzo and his beasts. And there he was. Amidst it all, Caleb watched as Mollymauk crumpled to the ground, crippled by his own Blood Maledict. A silent scream never made it past Caleb’s lips as a crude glaive cracked through Mollymauk’s chest. Caleb tried to reach his side, but it was futile. He had knelt beside him, fumbling with a health potion. Pressing the vial to his lips, it merely flowed down Mollymauk’s chin.

“It’s over, Caleb,” Nott had pressed herself into his side, squeezing his hand. She was right.

The second the Mighty Nein had put Mollymauk in the ground, Caleb was gone. He had trusted each and every one of them against his better judgement and now he had nothing. No. Now he had less than nothing. Prior to meeting them he could at least trust himself to not make asinine decisions. Not anymore. He had said a quick goodbye to Nott, pressing one of his mantle’s buttons into her hand. She was the only one who didn’t deserve what he was about to do. Travelling as fast as he could in the opposite direction, Caleb had stolen a horse off of oblivious merchants and picked up the pace. He had only dared to stop once he hit the foothills of the Cyrios Mountains. Finding a small, nameless village tucked into the hills, he had taken up odd jobs to pay for his residency. There was nothing here to remind him of his past, no ghosts to haunt him. But as it turns out, you can’t run from your past forever.

Caleb’s chest heaved as sobs seemed to rip right through his throat. He didn’t seem to cry anymore, this was something else entirely. The twin sized mattress creaked as he shook from the pain. Nothing fell from his eyes anymore. It seemed that his eyes had long since run out of tears. There was nothing left for him. He had given more than he had and it was all taken away in an instant. He could hear the sickening crack of the glaive through ribs on repeat. He saw the fear on Mollymauk’s face as he looked around for help. He couldn’t ever shake the image from his mind. In that moment he was just a scared kid and there was nothing anyone could do. Caleb choked on his breath, trying to ground himself in any way possible. He clutched at threadbare bed sheets, one hand trying to strip off his coat. It was too quiet, too hot, too close, too much. Standing up abruptly, a pile of books fell from the foot of the bed, thudding onto the floor. His coat was torn off, thrown onto his desk. Caleb grasped the back of a heavy oak chair, pushing it over with a hard shove. He wanted to howl in pain. To lash out at whatever God had cursed him with this. Throwing books from his desk, parchment crumple beneath his heavy stride. Ink splattered across his clothes, obsidian stains in full bloom. And yet, all the emptiness was not the worst thing. The worst part was that there was a part of Caleb that still wanted to try. The thoughts of necromancy, of selling his soul, of trading his own life had been constant companions since he started running. If there was something he could do to bring him back, he still wanted to try. He still wanted to give. All because, like a fool, Caleb had dared to love.


	2. Respit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mighty Nein take a small break on the hunt for Caleb.

“Do you think we’re ever going to find him?” Nott piped up from the back of the wagon. She fiddled with Caleb’s button, turning over and over in her fingers.

“ ‘S hard to say,” Fjord mused from the jockey box, stretching his back, “You know him better than any of us but this is… right now he’s unpredictable, to say the least,”.

Nott nodded, looking out at the landscape. Snow had begun to dust everything a coating of white as the country began to slip into winter. Farmers began to drape their livestock in cloaks and the cedarwood smokers were running at full speed. She brushed some snow off of the wagon sill, watching it melt between her fingers.

There had been rumors of a wizard out west, the likes of which had never been seen outside of the Soltryce academy. From town to town, the rumors varied. In some, there was a man covered in soot that scared off a pack of giant rats that had come from the sewers. In others, a man with bright eyes had conquered the will-o’-wisps from the plains. Each town had different puzzle pieces that were all leading to Caleb. Or so they hoped. Nott was sure it was him, but Beau was wary that Nott was just seeing what she wanted to see. Chasing white rabbits didn’t do anyone any good in their line of work.

Yasha rocked back and forth in the wagon, her feet hanging over the back as the road stretched out long in front of her. Beau had propped herself up with her knee, leaning against Yasha’s side. She sighed, sewing up a gash in her cloak. Losing Mollymauk had been hard on everyone, but of course, that was a grievous understatement. 

Neither of them seemed to have much to say since everything happened, but it wasn’t all bad. There was a quiet sympathy that laced their words. They looked out for each other and seemed to know just what the other needed before they even needed it. Yasha slipped an arm around Beau’s shoulders in silence, tracing gentle circles on her skin. She could feel her bottom lip tremble as she fought back tears. The days were getting easier, but healing takes some time when the universe takes a part of your heart.

Though Yasha would never dare say it out loud, she was hurting something awful. He was her brother in arms, her protector... her friend. She wasn’t even there for him when it matters. Her thoughts trailed off as tears clouded her vision. Her tears rolled silently down her cheeks as she pulled Beau closer. Beau looked up at Yasha, sadness seeping deep into her bones. She had never been good with emotions, but what did it matter now? There was nothing to say anymore because there was nothing to be done. Hope had long since abandoned the Mighty Nein. 

“It has to be Caleb though, right?” Jester piped up, rifling through her knapsack, “I mean who else would be dirty and have bright eyes and know how to fight off bad guys?”.

“Lots of people, Jess... Lots of people can fit that description,” Yasha’s voice was low and hoarse. She had never been one for false optimism. Beau gently nudged Yasha, giving her a slight head shake. She understood the pain as much as anyone but now was not the time.

“I know,” Jester spoke softer, looking at the floor of the wagon, “But this time it’s Caleb, I know-”.

“I’m sorry Jester,” Yasha interrupted, “I just…”.

Yasha trailed off. What was she? “Just” sad that Molly was gone? “Just” feeling really bummed that he was never coming back? She let out a long sigh, pressing her palm into her eyes. Beau rest her head in the crook of Yasha’s neck, putting down her cloak to wrap an arm around Yasha’s waist.

Jester wrapped her cloak a tighter, holding her bag close to her chest. Nott scooted closer to Jester. Jester looked up, giving a weak smile. Nott held up Caleb’s button, “We will find him. He’s my boy and I am not giving up,”.

“Yes we will,” Jester’s smile grew a little wider as she motioned for Nott to sit beside her against the wagon wall. Nott tucked herself next to Jester as Jester pulled out a small book to read. They’d settled into a habit of reading to each other ever since Caleb left, it was one of the ways they could keep him close to heart. 

“We’ll be needin’ a rest comin’ up in a bit. Does a break for lunch sound good?” Fjord posed the question to the group. It wasn’t a question as much as a heads up. The group noncommittally agreed. They were set to travel until dusk set in which meant a few more hours before setting up camp for the night. Fjord dug a map out of his pocket, unfolding it across his lap. He brushed off the few snowflakes that fell, covering the black star marking Zadash. There were some springs up ahead that were worth a gamble. Frozen or not, water was water. He tucked the map back into his pocket tightening his grip on the reins. 

From the back of the wagon, Fjord could hear the soft compassion of Beau and Yasha’s conversation. He couldn’t help but wonder what they would do next if they didn’t find Caleb soon. They first had tried going back to Zadash, hoping that Caleb would have returned to the place where this all began. Upon arrival, they quickly spread out across the city, asking anyone and everyone what they knew. Pumat knew nothing, Dolan and Horris were of no help either- not even the Gentlemen could offer anything useful. Praying that Caleb may still make his way back to the Leaky Tap, they stuck around. Hours turned to days and days to weeks before the remaining Nein decided if Caleb wasn’t going to come to them, they were going to come to him instead. Packing up what little they had left, Fjord and Nott had pooled together money for a covered wagon. Beau, Jester, and Yasha coming together for the horses and the basics of supplies. 

They had spent a while on the road, stopping between small homesteads to restock and catch their breath. Prospects were bleak but nobody was willing to stop looking. The search for Caleb gave them purpose and a distraction from the dull ache of an incomplete family. Their months of travel had only proven useful recently when they had stumbled upon a handful of villages with rumors of a strange man. Nott had immediately jumped on the rumor, trying to pry every last bit of information from each villager in a small mining town. With a vague consensus, she was able to glean that Caleb was most likely heading west. It was unlikely that he would go straight to the flashy and bustling Menagerie Coast. Even more unlikely that he would dare to try and conquer the mountains alone. The longer they traveled, the closer it seemed they got. Each town seemed to have a more recent account than the last, all signs pointing to a dirty wizard with a temperamental cat. All information and rumors bringing them to their current state. 

The road they traveled was a rough path carved through the countryside. It split fields in two, flanking the side of a frozen river. They left from the nearest town a day and a half ago, camping out at a long-abandoned hunting post during the night. Fjord leaned back, looping the reins around his fists for a second pass. The cold was starting to settle into his bones in a way that made sitting still near impossible. He listened as Jester read Tusk Love out loud for the hundredth time. The first few times he had overheard the story it was too embarrassing to bear, but at some point, Fjord started to enjoy it. Jester’s voice had a musical lilt that could make even the most sickeningly sweet smut sound halfway decent. Fjord bounced his knee as Jester detailed the painful love triangle that the novel’s damsel constantly found herself in.

“But mother-” she cried out with a dramatic flourish, “He may be an orc, but he loves me more than you ever have!”. 

Nott whooped and Fjord chuckled under his breath. This was always his favorite part. He guided the horses around a bend, pulling up to the beginning of the hills leading into the Cyrios mountain range. Steam seemed to be rising up from behind a particularly large hill, accompanied by the bubbling sounds of a natural spring. Fjord perked up, calling for the horses to halt. These weren’t any ordinary springs.

“Hot springs!” Jester cried out, suddenly appearing beside Fjord’s side, leaning on his shoulder, “Fjord you’re amazing! How did you know that there would be hot springs?”.

Fjord tried to hide his blush, Jester’s hands spreading warmth through his thick jacket, “I uh- I didn’t. I just figured that we would be needin’ t’ restock on the water at this point so I aimed for the closest thing t’ us,”.

Before Fjord could even tether the horses, Beau had jumped off of the back of the wagon and was stripping down. Tossing all her garments in a pile on the embankment, there was a flash of tanned skin and a huge splash of steaming water. She resurfaced shortly after, a content grin plastered on her face.

“I don’t think we need to go anywhere else, like ever,” she sighed, sinking deep into the water. 

Yasha shook her head with a small smile, taking Beau’s clothes in hand. Brushing snow off of one of the surrounding stones, she carefully folded Beau’s clothes before stepping out of her own and slipping into the spring. Beau wolf-whistled at Yasha with a devilish look, receiving a splash of water to the face as a response. 

“Y’all make yourselves comfortable and I’ll get a fire goin’. You wanna look for some kindling for the fire, Nott?” Fjord pulled a bale of hay and a bundle of firewood from the wagon. Nott nodded in agreement, scampering over to a nearby bush and clearing it of half its twigs. Fjord threw down some hay for their horses, clearing a small circle for their future fire pit.

“Can I make the fire this time, Fjord?” Nott gave him her best puppy-dog eyes, clutching the kindling to her chest. Fjord took a moment to think. The last time Nott had fire privileges, they had ended up nearly burning down the wagon and all of their goods. However, this time there was water nearby, the wagon was parked a decent ways away, and it wasn’t during a drought.

“I ‘spose so. But don’t make me regret this,” he carefully handed over the flint.

“Oh, I will!” Nott grinned, crouching down to begin her work. 

In the meantime, Jester had joined Yasha and Beau in the bubbling spring. She sat in the deeper end, her chin hardly clearing the water. 

“You know this is just like in Tusk Love when Oscar takes Guinivere to the secret path off of the Amber Road and they...” she giggled, pantomiming a remarkably obscene act. Beau barked out a laugh, lightly splashing Jester. Yasha leaned away from the spray, reclining against the rocky embankment. Fjord slipped out of his winter wear, stepping into the spring. He relished the warmth that enveloped his stiff and cold body. 

“Jester, I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we know exactly what this is like in Tusk Love,” Fjord challenged with a teasing tone, crossing his arms across his chest.

Jester floated over to the deeper end of the pool, hanging off of Fjord’s shoulder.

“Well, of course, you would know! The book is practically your autobiography, Oscar” She laughed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They had to make some changes, naturally, because they couldn’t have you being stopped for autographs so much,”. 

“Sure it is,” Fjord agreed noncommittally before reaching an arm around Jester’s waist and pulling her close, “Then I suppose that would make you Guinevere?”.

Jester giggled, blushing indigo under her sky blue skin. Fjord began to lean in for a kiss, meanwhile, his other hand reached up… grasping Jester’s shoulder... and suddenly plunging her under the water. Jester came up for air, spluttering and flailing in Fjord’s grasp. Beau and Fjord let out hearty laughs, watching Jester punch at Fjord’s shoulder with balled fists. Yasha’s cold demeanor slipped into a slight smile.

“That wasn’t funny, Fjord! You big meanie!” Jester pouted, wet hair hanging from her horns like Spanish moss. 

“It was kinda funny,” Fjord grinned, gently untangling her hair from her horns. Jester slapped his hand away, pushing out of his grasp.

“No no no- Don’t you think that I’m going to forgive you so quickly, Fjord Tough. You cannot seduce me like your tavern wenches!” she swam over to Beau and Yasha, squeezing water out of her hair. Steam rose from her shoulders and hair, basking her in a soft misty glow.

“That’s what you get for flirting with a half-orc,” Yasha mused. It was obvious to see that Fjord was just as flustered as Jester was in that moment, but the two of them were too close to see the obvious. She shared a knowing glance with Beau. 

The Nein spent another hour or so, relaxing in the springs and reminiscing on stories from the road. Their stomachs were the first to pull them out of the warm water. In the meantime, Nott had set up a roaring fire, much to Fjord’s chagrin. This time, though, nothing else was on fire so Fjord mentally chalked it up to a success. She had set up a handful of spits around the circumference, skinned rabbits stretched taught across them. 

“Not too shabby,” Beau nudged Nott’s shoulder, giving her a thumbs up.

“See? I told you I could be trusted with fire!” Nott shot a pointed look at Fjord who merely chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.

“I stand corrected,” he admitted, plucking a spit from the ground and tucking into dinner.

Dinner was finished and the pelts were cleaned and tossed into the back of the wagon. Laying out bedrolls, the Nein circled the fire and laid down for sleep. The fire warmed their faces, cold winter wind to their back. Beau curled into Yasha’s chest and Nott into Jester's side. Fjord sat up against the hillside on the first watch, falchion laid beside him as he looked deep into the night for unseen beasts. Before they knew it, the sun had risen and their next day began. 

“We’re coming for you, Caleb,” Nott announced to the countryside, hands planted on her hips. Something within her heart told her they were close. She was going to find her boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah this chapter got long fast,,, please bear with me as i try to balance all these emotions in one fic! also please let me know what you think!


	3. Tea Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb goes to work. Caduceus begins to understand the circumstances around his arrival.

Caleb woke to an ink-stained shirt and a pounding headache. Just like every other morning. He sighed, rubbing a hand across his jaw. Between the pounding in his head and the ache in his chest, he couldn’t tell which hurt more. He sat up in bed, the early winter sun seeping through the cracks that his thick curtains could not conceal. Rubbing his arms, Caleb muttered a few arcane words into his hands, flicking a small ball of light into his empty hearth. A fire blossomed upon the contact of light and log. Shaking his coat out from its crumpled pile beside his desk. During his rampage, he had knocked over his inkwell and it had spread in an inky black stain across the right shoulder of his jacket and down the arm. He stared forlornly at the mess, feeling nothing but resigned frustration. 

This is how many mornings started as of late. Caleb would go out and drink the night before, remember all too much, trash his room or hurt himself, wake up the next morning, clean up his mess, and repeat. He pulled on his coat, the ink long since dried and caked into the rough-hewn fibers. He didn’t have the time or money to deal with fixing that much today. A worn kettle chugged away as it began to whistle a shrill tune. He dumped a sachet of coffee grounds into a dented tin cup, pouring scalding water over it. Setting the cup at the window sill, Caleb tore off a piece of stale baguette and began to pick at it. Snapping his fingers, Frumpkin appeared with a pop. 

“What are we going to do about this?” Caleb clicked his tongue, scooping Frumpkin up into his arms, “We can’t go on like this, ja?”.

Frumpkin meowed, batting at the hair that fell past Caleb’s chin. He definitely needed a haircut. Setting Frumpkin down, Caleb ate breakfast. Albeit too quickly, he noticed as the coffee burned the back of his throat something fierce. Rifling through a coat pocket, he ripped off a piece of jerky, giving it to Frumpkin.

“Would you like to come to work with me today?” Caleb pat Frumpkin’s side, “What am I saying? Komm mit mir,”.

He pulled the kettle from the hearth, setting it on the cool stone floor. Downing the rest of his coffee in a large gulp, Caleb tried to ignore the grounds that had made it through the filter. He dulled the fire to mere embers with a snap, perching Frumpkin on his shoulders before setting off into the cold.

When he first appeared in the town, nobody thought of him as anything more than a passing vagrant on the way to the Menagerie Coast. The town was a locally known outpost for those trying to get through the mountains. It was the last bit of civilization before rocky outcroppings took over. Caleb had stumbled upon it coincidentally, half-starved and dirtier than usual. After showing the bar a few party tricks, he was able to fund his first warm meal in far too long. Naturally, he tried to keep a low profile, but it doesn’t take much to be noticed in a small town. A towering firbolg had taken note of him that night and later approached him with a proposition. He needed assistance with the research of magical goods especially in regards to the natural elements.

Caleb wrapped his scarf tight around himself, briskly walking down the dirt path that was generously called a street. Approaching his workplace, he could see light coming from within, a column of smoke swirling up from the chimney. He pushed open the heavy oak door, Frumpkin immediately jumping down to search for the firbolg.

“Mister Caleb, good morning,” a voice called out from the storage room as Caleb caught a glimpse of pink hair passing by the doorway. He exited the room, Frumpkin purring in his arms. His long pink hair was tied back into a top knot, a stained canvas apron tied around his waist.

“Guten Morgen, Caduceus,” Caleb nodded, hanging up his coat beside the door.

Caduceus’ genial smile dropped when he saw Caleb’s state. He had seen Caleb have a bad day, but this was something worse. He looked like he was being eaten away inside, pain shining through cracks in his stern facade he wore all too well. Caduceus moved Frumpkin to his shoulders, quickly getting to work on preparing tea. Caleb instinctively traded his ragged coat for a similar apron to that of Caduceus. He fumbled with the tie, sitting down at a faded desk. A pile of books loomed beside him, a scroll unfurled with ink wells anchoring the corners. 

“The transcriptions aren’t going anywhere, Caleb. Why don’t you take a moment to tell me what is going on?” Caduceus swiveled Caleb’s chair around, pressing a cup of hot tea into his hands. It was apparent that it wasn’t a suggestion. Frumpkin jumped up on to Caleb’s lap, settling into his side. He sighed, trying his hardest to avoid the firbolg’s intense gaze.

“I’m fine… It’s just the same as always,” Caleb muttered, his fingertips burning against the hot porcelain cup, “There’s nothing more to say that hasn’t been said already,”.

Caduceus lifted an eyebrow, pulling a chair up. He sat across from Caleb, nursing his own cup of tea, “I don’t believe that for a second,”.

A fraught look took over Caleb’s face. He had told Caduceus everything about the Nein. Well, nearly everything. He had struggled through the story about Mollymauk’s death, but he had laid out every painful detail. He had tried to say it all, but the pain that sat around his heart in a thorny vice grip couldn’t seem to leave his throat. It lodged around his Adam’s apple and refused to come out. Even now, Caleb couldn’t find the words to coax out the memories he so desperately needed to share. Caduceus leaned forward, his large hand engulfing Caleb’s shoulder. Watery blue eyes met his gaze.

“Mister Caleb, I think it is time we talked about what happened before you came into my practice,” he gently squeezed his shoulder.

Caleb’s heart stuttered in his chest. Taking a sip of his tea, he tried to ignore the pain of his burned palate. Caduceus was waiting but his patience wasn’t painful. The memories he had tried to suppress for so long began to churn in his mind, moving faster and faster. As they reached a fever pitch, Caleb felt like he was being smothered with unspoken pain. And then, somewhere deep within himself, he could feel the chains on his hearts shatter. Suddenly, all of the words he had searched for came to him. 

“I have only ever loved one man, Caduceus. One man. And there was nothing I could do to save him. I fucking ran away like the coward I am. I left my friends. I left my family… I showed them exactly what they were afraid of. I am a traitor and a coward,” The words tumbled out of his mouth like an avalanche. His throat straining as tears began to fall freely from his eyes. Caleb’s voice grew hoarse as the lump in his throat threatened to choke him on the spot.

“I killed the first family I ever knew, and just when I thought I could live with my skeletons, I ran away. Scheiße- I am not deserving of love or forgiveness. I am deserving of the abandonment that I have brought upon myself,”.

Caduceus leaned back, dropping his hand from Caleb’s shoulder. He had seen the pain building for weeks now and this was finally the breaking point. There would be no consoling him at this point so he merely sat and listened. Caduceus realized that Caleb told himself many lies. His concentration was broken when Caleb choked around a name. The name was caught on his lips, the only sound breaking through was a sob from deep within his chest.

“The more you say it, the less power it holds against you,” Caduceus murmured, his eyebrows knit together with concern. 

“His n-name…” Caleb hadn’t dared say it aloud since his death, “His name is… was Mollymauk Tealeaf…”.

Caleb collapsed over his knees, head in his hands as he let himself go. No longer was anger held in his fists or in his chest. He could feel the guilt and regret seeping into his joints as he began to realize what he left behind at Mollymauk’s grave. He had left his heart and his family during the time that they all had needed him most. He had buried his heart with Mollymauk despite it still beating. Caduceus pulled his chair up beside Caleb’s, pulling him into a tight embrace. He rubbed Caleb’s back as he wept, consoling remarks rumbling from his chest. 

“There you go, Mister Caleb. You’re okay now,”.  
Caleb took shaky breaths, pressing his face into the feather-soft fur of Caduceus’ neck. Just as quickly as his thoughts had come, they had left. The second that Mollymauk’s name fell from his lips, there was nothing. There was no pain. There was no anger. There was nothing. A ball of dread gripped his stomach at that thought. There was nothing.

The warm hand on the small of his back anchored him back in reality. Caduceus had wrapped him in a hug, his large figure engulfing his small frame. Caleb tilted his head, pressing his nose into the fur of Caduceus’ collar bone. The smell of figs and forest took over his senses, helping still his racing heart and mind. There was nothing but ashes left from the bridges he had burned, but for some reason that made Caleb chuckle. That’s all that a phoenix ever had to start with too.

“Caleb,”.

His own name, so plain and simple, caught him off guard, there was no “Mister” to preface it. It caused him to pull back. He broke their embrace, sitting back in his chair. Caduceus had a soft smile that masked the concern and sympathy he felt.

“You are worthy of second chances,” Caduceus reached up, cradling Caleb’s cheek in his palm. He ran a thumb under his eyes, catching the tears in his fur, “And I hope that you can trust me enough to give you a chance,”.

Caleb looked away, blushing with shame. A stray tear fell from his cheek, dotting his apron. Caduceus waited expectantly, his hands now folded in his lap. He knew it was unlikely that Caleb would ever admit that he was worth anything, but he didn’t need any sort of admittance.

“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,” he smiled, holding out a hand, “Just trust me, okay?”.

Caleb hesitantly reached out, taking Caduceus’s large hand in his own. He felt a gentle squeeze against his palm. It felt wrong to accept any help, knowing he would hurt him. It was like inviting a fox inside and being surprised when it ran off with your chickens.

“Ja- well, it’s not you that I don’t trust,” Caleb cleared his throat.

“I never said you had to trust yourself,” Caduceus brought their hands to his mouth. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of Caleb’s hand, “I already trust you enough for the both of us,”.

“You hardly know me,” Caleb’s heart jumped into his throat, “And from what you know about me, I’m not exactly the loyal type,”.

“That’s a lie, Mister Caleb,” Caduceus sighed, moving their hands to his lap, “You like to tell yourself an awful lot of those,”.

He continued as the only response he got was a look of confusion.

“Contrary to what you tell yourself, you deserve a second chance. We learn, and we grow, and someday we will die. But never once during that time are we ever undeserving of love and forgiveness. Grief is a funny little thing. It sticks you to the past like glue but is utterly invisible to those who do not look for it. I have seen your grief, Mister Caleb, but that has not once changed what I know to be true,”.

Caleb shifted in his seat. This brash honesty was not something he was used to. Caduceus’ intensity was unwavering and intimidating, juxtaposed by the soft smile that played in his lips.

“Und? What do you know to be true?”.

“That you are a good person, Caleb Widogast. You deserve love and forgiveness for what you have done. The earth does not forget. Not the good nor the bad. You will be remembered for your kindness and bravery in the face of atrocities. But more than anything else, you will be forgiven,”.

Something within Caduceus shifted. Tears began to prick at his eyes as he looked deep into Caleb’s. There was something so familiar and primal about the pain, and for a brief moment, he could feel his heartbreaking. It was too familiar for comfort. There was a feeling that sat in his stomach, both aching and yearning at the same time. Some small part of him wanted to hold Caleb closer still. He shook his head, restoring his bright smile.

“I apologize, Mister Caleb, I just had the weirdest sense of presque vu,”.

The term was unfamiliar to Caleb. He cocked his head in confusion. Caduceus dropped their hands, standing up.

“It just means that it feels as though something is on the tip of your tongue. Just out of reach, perhaps,” He returned to work, tidying his work station, “You need not worry at all,”.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Caleb turned his chair back around. He smoothed his hair back from his face, plucking a feathered quill from the inkwell. The rest of the day, they orbited around each other in comfortable silence, no sounds but the soft crackling of the stove in the next room over. Caleb laid another script out to dry, wiping his hands on his apron. He sat up straight in his chair, stretching his hands above his head. A warm hand caught his wrist by surprise. He looked up to Caduceus, who had taken his hand in his own, softly massaging his palm.

“Your hands must be getting tired by now,” he chuckled, gently lacing their fingers together.

A chill ran up Caleb’s spine as he reveled in the physical contact. Caduceus was more physical than most, but there was something about this act that felt different. He could have sworn that his heart skipped a beat when Caduceus pressed a kiss to his fingertips.

“Und du- uh- you must also be getting quite tired too,” he sputtered, clearly flustered.

Caduceus slightly nodded, “This is true. Perhaps we should take a moment to rest and recuperate. It has been a long day and it is hardly noon,”.

Butterflies filled Caleb’s stomach as he noticed that Caduceus was glancing toward the back room where a spare, straw mattress was made up. It normally went unused, excluding the handful of times, Caleb overworked himself and needed a place to pass out. He furrowed his eyebrows, worry replacing the butterflies. He wasn’t ready for this, not so soon…

“I just mean for a rest,” Caduceus clarified, “Nothing more or less. Just a body to hold,”.

Caleb visibly relaxed, releasing the tension in his shoulders that he didn’t know he was holding. Just a nap, nothing more. He let a soft smile tug at his lips in agreement. A nap would be nice. He unlaced his boots, setting them beside the door. The worn leather slumped over as he laid his apron and waistcoat on top. Left in his rough linen shirt and trousers, Caleb crawled into bed. He tried to ignore the blush on his cheeks as Caduceus followed suit. The firbolg, however, opted to go shirtless. He folded his shirt neatly beside his boots before tucking himself in beside Caleb. Caduceus could feel Caleb stiffen beside him, lying flat on his back. 

“There’s no need to be shy. Just relax and try to sleep, alright?” he held out his arms, inviting Caleb to lay with him rather than just next to him.

Moving reluctantly, Caleb shifted slightly closer, allowing Caduceus to slip an arm around his shoulders. Suddenly, he was pulled into a full embrace. His face met the soft gray fur of Caduceus’ chest, warmth radiating from every inch. He stilled, unsure of everything going on. He felt a hand reach up to the nape of his neck, tugging his hair free from the band that held it back. Caleb tensed further until he felt a hand begin to massage his scalp. The tension and stress seemed to melt right out of him as Caduceus shifted slightly to lay on his back, pulling Caleb close to his chest. He ran a hand through his auburn locks, gently working out the snarls and tangles that came with Caleb’s disdain towards bathing.

“Is this alright? I didn’t want to be too brash, but I figured you might be needing something like this,” he twirled a strand of hair around his fingers, “Truthfully, I was also needing something like this,”.

“What’s something like this?” Caleb mumbled, rubbing his cheek into Caduceus’ chest. It felt sinful to be able to feel such softness, considering he had been living in itchy wool and rough cotton for as long as he can remember. Caduceus softly laughed, the sound reverberating throughout Caleb’s bones.

“I suppose it’s someone rather than something. I have missed holding someone close for a very long time,”.

“As have I…”.


	4. Found & Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nein hit a small town just before the Cyrios mountains. They finally get a lead and it takes them just where they need to go. A question is raised though, are they welcome there?

The winter sun sat high above the clouds, obscured by a frigid, gray sky. Beau and Jester had long exhausted their raunchy jokes and had resigned themselves to stories and hypotheticals. Jester sat beside Fjord in the jockey box, turned around to peek back into the covered wagon.

“Okay, okay, okay but would you rather fight one bear sized Nott? Or would you rather fight ten, Nott-sized bears?” She giggled, arm thrown over the seatback.

Beau furrowed her brow, deep in thought, “That depends, would everything else be scaled up? Like would she have a bear-sized crossbow, too?”.

“That would only be logical if she is already the size of a bear,” Yasha mused.

“Of course she would have a giant crossbow!” Jester exclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “She would also have her flask, but big. And her little mask too!”.

“I’m glad I got this enchanted then,” Nott piped up, gesturing to her flask, “It would be a pain to refill every single night,”.

Jester waved her hands to bring the attention back to her, “You didn’t answer my question, Beau! One biiiig Nott or ten tiny bears?”.

“Ten tiny bears, no doubt. You could punt those fuckers right across the fields without breakin’ a sweat,” Beau shrugged, crossing her legs.

“I would fight the big Nott, permitted that her speed was proportional to her size,” Yasha nodded.

“But what if she was jus’ as fast?” Fjord glanced back, suddenly intrigued by the hypothetical combat scenario, “Like when Caleb uses Haste? She’d be eight feet tall ‘n move faster than the horses,”.

“Oh, well, in that case, no,” Yasha said definitively.

“That sounds an awful lot like a dream I had a few nights ago,” Jester mused, “Nott was all big and stomping around and eating all of the pastries from my haversack! I couldn’t stop her though because it was like I was moving through molasses,”. Jester slowly moved her arms through the air as if it had suddenly turned to jello.

Beau laughed, nudging Nott, “Guess she found out about the doughnuts,”.

Nott spluttered, blushing a dark green, “I can’t help when I get hungry! Or when I get the itch- you know the one,”.

“No, I don’t think we do,” Beau smirked, “Is that the one Molly got from that one guy at the Harvest Close Festival?”.

Conversation in the cart slammed to a halt. That was the first time any of them had dared say his name and yet it had happened so naturally. It felt like they were just talking about a friend who had traveled out of town for the weekend, not like that friend was buried six feet under. Beau looked away from the group, quickly becoming more interested in the wood grain below her. Silence fell around them like a lead blanket, suffocating any additional thoughts. Fjord cleared his throat, shifting in his seat.

“I uh… don’t think that’s the same itch,” he half-heartedly joked through the pain.

The tension lifted ever so slightly at the comment. Beau shot Fjord a small, grateful smile. They all knew that they had to move forward at some point, but it didn’t make any of it easier. Yasha rubbed Beau’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“It’s okay. We’ve got to get used to it eventually,” she murmured.

What was painful silence was replaced with slight awkwardness. Maybe it was the grief or maybe it was the wagon ride, but everyone was starting to feel anxious to do something other than travel. The ironic part of grief is that everyone rationally knows that they will overcome the pain, but it doesn’t change the process. 

Nott sat beside Beau, holding out her flask in an alcoholic olive branch. Beau nodded, taking a long swig. They rode in silence for a long while, the muffled sound of hooves on snow taking the place of conversation. Jester absentmindedly doodled in her notebook. Her pencil scratched away, trying to compensate for the less-than-stable surface that was her lap. She looked out at the landscape, trying to figure out what she would even tell the Traveler about when they stopped in town. In the distance, she could see smoke rising from the dark side of the mountain. Jester gasped, haphazardly shoving her notebook and pencil into her knapsack.

“Fjord! Look!” She squealed, swinging her legs with great fervor.

“Right on time,” Fjord smiled, snapping the reins. The horses picked up their pace to a light trot. Nott, Beau, and Yasha had all crowded around to look out at the smoke line. They couldn’t have been more than a few miles away at most. The smoke was steady and unwavering meaning this wasn’t any old campfire, though they had made that mistake before. Nott and Yasha began to pack up the back of the wagon, organizing hides and various goods into burlap sacks. Beau began listing off the standard protocol for an efficient sweep of the town.

“Okay, so we gotta ask for Caleb, Bren, Widogast, any sort of a name like that. Then, if that’s a dead-end, we ask for a dirty man with a cat- probably looks like he hasn’t showered or slept for the last decade,”.

Nott cleared her throat with a disapproving flair.

“My apologies-” Beau, rolled her eyes at Nott, “If there is any talented wizard who appears to have hit a rough patch,”.

Nott nodded with approval.

“And then if there’s still nothing, we start going door to door. Split up and canvass the place. Still, nothing and we regroup and figure out a game plan with what we know,”.

The Mighty Nein all nodded in agreement as they came over a ridge, looking down on the clustered buildings. There were modest homes that skirted the coast of a larger lake. Fishing boats floated out in the harbor, white sails in stark contrast to the blue-black water. While a handful of homes had smoking chimneys, one building had smoke billowing out from smokestacks in a way that either indicated status or metal forgery.

“Looks like we’ll be eating fish for the foreseeable future,” Beau pointed out towards the boats.

“Can’t complain ‘s long ‘s it’s fresh,” Fjord shrugged, grateful for something not pickled or dried.

He slowed their pace as he guided the wagon down the embankment. Aiming for the building with the large smokestacks, he parked the cart with a tug of the reins. Before Fjord could even stop the cart, everyone else had jumped off and was stretching their legs. Jester stretched her arms up, taking a deep breath in. Her eyes instantly lit up. 

“I smell cinnamon!” she sighed, wrapping her arms around Yasha’s side. Yasha slightly smiled, ruffling Jester’s hair.

“I just smell the lake,” Beau wrinkled her nose, pulling her cloak tighter to her as a sharp wind whipped through the town. Nott grabbed Beau’s hand, pulling her down the road.

“What are we waiting for! We have a Caleb to catch!”.

Following in tow, Jester and Yasha took in the sights of the town. Fjord carefully directed the wagon down the cobblestone path, keeping a close eye out. For an unknown outpost, it was seemingly well established. There was a certain charm that made it feel like home, something that large cities always seemed to lack. Smoked fish hung in the butcher's shop, various skins at the tanners, and colorful candies sat on bright, copper trays at the bakers. A handful of people darted out into the street, quickly making their way to their destination to avoid the biting cold. A large sign overhead creaked in the breeze. ‘Saint Bernard’s Pub and Inn’ was carved into the wood with a simple font. Fjord whistled to the group, pointing at the sign above. He pulled the cart over, tethering the horses to a hitching post.

“And what do we ask?” Beau asked rhetorically.

“Have you seen a wizard with dirty red hair?” Jester piped up.

“He’s about ye high” Yasha continued, holding her hand a little above her shoulder.

“And answers to Caleb, Bren, Mister Caleb, Lebby, Cay-Cay, Book Boy-” Nott started going down the list of nicknames.

“And he probably needs a bath and a nap,” Fjord chuckled, pushing open the heavy oak door. 

Heat enveloped them all at once, a welcome reprieve from the winter air. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dimly lit atmosphere. The scent of stale beer was mixed with smoked meats and tobacco, not unlike just about every other establishment in the empire. Jester, Yasha, and Fjord took seats at a worn booth, the leather seat splitting and soft from use. Beau lead Nott to the bar, leaning on the worn wooden counter.

“Excuse me,” Beau looked around for the closest staff, placing a handful of copper down, “We’ll be taking two trosts of your strongest and cheapest ale,”.

“Comin’ right up!” A young Tabaxi woman popped her head out from the backroom, ears perked towards the sound of new voices. Tall and lean, she had to duck to exit the back room. Wiping her hands on her apron, she grabbed two large steins and began to fill them up. Nott pulled herself up onto a barstool, Beau sitting beside her.

“Here you are,” she slid the steins across the counter.

“Say, what’s your name?” Beau nodded at the bartender, taking a long swig of her beer.

“Oh! I’m Evergreen and this is my little establishment. And who do I have the pleasure of serving?” she smiled, wiping the length of the bar down with a rag.

“I’m Beau and this is uh…” she trailed off.

“Otto,” Nott quickly finished Beau’s sentence, trying to remain inconspicuous.

“Well Beau and Otto, if there is anything more I can get you, just give me a shout,” Evergreen nodded, turning back to her work.

“Actually there is one thing you might be able to help with,” Beau set down her mug, “We were wondering if you maybe had seen a wizard come through town. Maybe recently or not so recently,”.

“Well that depends,”.

“On what?” Beau crossed her arms.

“Whether or not I happened to be paying attention,” Evergreen raised an eyebrow. Beau sighed, fishing around in her pockets for a silver piece. The Tabaxi woman barked out a laugh, slapping her hand on the counter.

“I’m kidding- I’m kidding- I’ll tell you whatever I know,” she draped the rag over her shoulder, “The road really makes you lose faith in people, goodness. Who’re you looking for?”.

“He’s average height, red hair, a little dirty,” Nott straightened up on her stool, “Probably answers to Bren or Caleb or something like that?”.

Evergreen leaned against the liquor cabinet that stretched across the back wall, “Well if that’s who you’re looking for, he hasn’t just passed through here,”.

Beau and Nott practically jumped out of their seats.

“What do you mean?!” Nott had to fight every fiber of her being not to shout.

“I mean he moved in. He works with Mister Clay at the apothecary in town. His house is the brick one, higher up in the foothills. You probably saw it when you came in, actually-” she couldn’t even finish her sentence before the two of them had taken off, dragging the other three with.

“Woah- woah- woah- you’re tellin’ me that he lives here?” Fjord shouted ahead at Nott who had taken off down the street. Yasha and Fjord had fallen towards the back of the pack as Jester, Nott, and Beau raced ahead.

“Yes! And he lives just up that path,” Nott called back, pointing towards a winding dirt path that lead up to a worn brick cottage. Jester caught up to Nott, her hands gripping the straps of her knapsack.

“What do you think he does here?” she grinned as they darted into a side street.

“I’m sure he does amazing things!” Nott grinned, “He is very strong- probably even stronger now!”

“That’s cool and all, but I’m gonna beat you all there!” Beau yelled as she sprinted past them. 

“Not if I can help it!” Nott screamed, picking up her pace exponentially.

Fjord and Yasha shared a bittersweet look as they picked up their pace to a brisk walk. Something told them that finding Caleb wasn’t going to be as simple as they hoped. Finding someone who doesn’t want to be found never really worked out for them.

Nott stopped at the beginning of the stone path leading up to the cottage door. She wrung her hands as she waited for the rest of the group to catch up. Jester wrapped an arm around Nott’s side. Beau mimicked the gesture on Nott’s other side, sandwiching her in the middle. Fjord and Yasha eventually crested the last hill, meeting up with the other three.

“Who wants to see if he is home?” Yasha asked, nodding towards the house.

Nott was suddenly overcome with fear and worry. What if he didn’t recognize them? What if they had the wrong person? What if he didn’t want to see them anymore?

“I can’t do it,” Nott mumbled, leaning into Jester’s skirt. Not even all the tulle in the world could hide her from the fears that needled away at her. Beau pat her back, stepping up to the door.

“I’ve got this,” she awkwardly smiled, knocking on the door three times. There were some sounds from inside. Papers shifted, a chair scraped across the floor. A small light appeared behind the warped and frosted glass panes. Beau looked back at the Nein with a shaky smile and a thumbs up. Then, it all seemed to happen too fast. The one moment they had been waiting for was now before them and the doubt was swallowing them all like quicksand. Their fears were ignored when the door opened.

“Beauregard?”.


	5. My Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb is startled by the Nein at his doorstep. He is conflicted about whether or not he deserves their forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's quite a bit of german in this one so id encourage you to translate it!! it's super emotional and writing in german is the best way i can express caleb's anger :-0 also caleb says some really nasty things to yasha,,, sorry y'all...

Caleb stirred after a few hours of rest. A heavy arm was draped across his chest, accompanied by the soft snores of Caduceus beside him. Caleb sighed, rubbing his temples. A million and two thoughts raced through his mind, competing to be his next anxious fixation. What was he getting into with Caduceus? A part of him was screaming for physical affection, but the rest of him was squandering the thoughts before they manifested into feelings. There was no way that a disgrace like him would ever deserve love in this lifetime.

Mollymauk was too naive to ever believe Caleb when he said things like that. But then again, he was the best of them. He always wanted to believe that there was good in the world. ‘Leave the places you visit better than you find them’ Molly’s chiding voice cut through Caleb’s hurricane of thought. He bit his cheek to fight the anger that churned in his stomach. If that were the motto to live by, he was doing the right thing by ditching the Mighty Nein but falling into the wrong by letting Caduceus get close.

Ein gebranntes Kind scheut das Feuer. // A burned child shies away from the fire.

Caleb slowly got out of bed, making sure Caduceus remained asleep. Quickly dressing, he picked up Frumpkin, placing him around his neck. He gingerly opened the heavy door, trying to avoid the inevitable creak of hinges. Ducking out into the cold, he all but ran home in the dark of night. The sun had long since set and the moon was blocked out by the thick clouds that signaled a coming snowstorm. His boot heels clicked on the cobblestone, the sound echoing through the empty streets. Flinging open his door, he slammed it behind him. The fire roared to life in the hearth, intensity matching his turmoil. Frumpkin jumped down from his shoulders, curling up at the fireside. Caleb ran a hand through his hair, tugging at a handful. His instincts said to leave, but Caleb wasn’t so sure for once. He didn’t need to forgive himself but running wasn’t the answer this time. 

He sat on the edge of his bed, hands busying themselves by picking at the fraying hem of his jacket. Caleb’s mouth was dry, his mind being torn in two by the opposing thoughts. He should stay and make a home in which he could die, unrecognized and unbothered. But staying meant that Caduceus stayed too. Caleb slumped forward, dragging his hands across his jaw. It was time to do what he did best, shut the world out and keep his head down. He slightly chuckled at the thought. Humans really were creatures of habit.

Caleb moved to sit at his desk, trading the prospect of sleep for more transcriptions. His quill scratched away on the paper as he transcribed Common into Zemnian and vice versa. Though he had burned out a long time ago, the thought of trying to sleep was an impossibility. Facing his dreams was just as terrifying as the thought of seeing any of the Nein again.

In the fireplace, the flames had dulled to a light crackle as the sound of his work soothed Caleb. Intermittently, he would brew a cup of coffee and choke down the bitter grounds in order to keep him moving. Around six in the morning, he threw a few logs on the fire, taking a moment to pull his chair around and warm up his stiff joints. Frumpkin hopped up onto his lap, headbutting into Caleb’s open palm. Absentmindedly, he began to scratch behind Frumpkin’s ears. The sun had started to turn the inky black sky into a pale pink as it rose across the water. Caleb opened a window to watch as it climbed higher into the sky with each passing minute. The biting air that seeped in through the open window stung his cheeks, but he didn’t mind. The pain was a reminder of his existence, which suddenly seemed quite insignificant. 

He watched the clouds roll in, once again covering the city with a dull gray light. Sleep must have found him at some point because Caleb suddenly awoke with stiff joints and numb fingers. He fumbled to close the window, dragging his chair back in front of the fire. It must’ve been near noon, considering the sounds of the city, but his guess was as good as any without any visible sun. Breathing hot air into his hands, Caleb leaned in closer to the fire. The heat felt like it was burning away at his skin as it began to bring life back into his freezing figure. Caleb was shifting in his seat as he tried to get feeling back to his legs and toes when there was a rapping at the door. Well, three knocks to be exact.

Caleb stood up, pushing his chair back in at his desk. He quickly tried to organize the mess that was his desk, opting to give up on the endeavor entirely. Pulling open the door, what he saw felt like a sucker punch to the throat. All language escaped him as his eyes darted from person to person. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

“Beauregard?” he managed to choke out, his grip on the door handle turning his knuckles stark white. He stepped out to see Fjord, Jester, and Nott clustered on his front garden. There was a moment of shocked silence as the door thudded shut behind him.

“Caleb,” the name had hardly left her lips before Nott had shoved past her. 

Nott threw her arms around Caleb’s waist, clinging to every last bit she could get her hands on. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to get out a coherent thought.

“I thought- you-” she wailed, “You’re alive!”.

Beau and Jester joined in on the hug, burying their faces in Caleb’s shoulders. Beau tried to hide her tears, muttering something about allergies, whereas Jester wept openly. 

“You are the worst!” Jester weakly punched Caleb in the chest, “We have been looking everywhere for you!”.

Caleb stood stock-still, alarms and red flags going up in every fiber of his being. He looked at Yasha and Fjord with wide eyes as they joined the pile. He felt like he was suffocating under all of them. His pulse was racing as it all became too much. Finding the strength, he started squirming under their grasp, shoving them off. He managed to push them away, taking a large step back.

“Why are you here?” his tone was cold, expression void of compassion.

Jester looked at him as if he had grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead, “What do you mean ‘why are you here’? We’ve been looking for you forever!”.

“You… you left and we weren’t about to leave you behind…” Nott wiped her nose on her sleeve, “You know you’re my boy, Caleb. We couldn’t not look for you,”.

“We’re family, what did you think we would do?” Fjord spoke up. 

Caleb’s jaw tightened. He crossed his arms over his chest, “I left for a reason. I didn’t want to be found. You should have just let me be,”.

Beau’s brow furrowed, mimicking Caleb’s defensive stance, “I don’t understand. We agreed we were all in this together, right from the start. Our word was our bond, and you have the nerve to tell me that we should just ignore that shit?”.

“I do have the nerve to tell you that, Beauregard,” Caleb spat out the words, “Because I don’t know if you realized this when Mollymauk died, but this isn’t what any of us signed up for!”.

That was all it took to make Yasha’s anger boil in her veins. Taking three large strides forward, she towered over Caleb, shoving a finger into his chest. 

“You know damn well what you were signing up for. Don’t you dare claim ignorance or naivety, Caleb Widogast. None of us are so stupid as to believe that bullshit for even a second,” her voice shook with anger, “But if you think that you can pin all of this on Molly’s death? Use his life in vain for the sake of your immaturity, you’re fucking wrong,”.

Caleb’s anger quickly turned to venom as he grabbed Yasha’s hand, shoving it from his chest, “Do not speak to me in that tone. You do not have the slightest idea what he meant to me,”.

“OF COURSE, WE KNOW WHAT HE MEANT TO YOU, CALEB!” Yasha snapped, screaming down at Caleb. Thunder boomed overhead as the afternoon sky turned pitch black.

“HE WAS MY BROTHER,” she cried out, grabbing Caleb by his shirt collar.

“ER WAR VIEL MEHR ALS NUR EINEN BRUDER, DU SCHLAMPE,” Caleb pressed his hands into Yasha’s shoulders as he cast Burning Hands. Yasha shouted out in pain and anger, dropping him to the ground. Two blistered handprints began to appear on her pale skin.

Caleb scrambled back, chest heaving as he tried to comprehend what he had just done. It was just like home. It was the one thing he had promised to never do again, and all it took was his name and Caleb snapped. His skin felt like it was boiling under the shame and anger he felt for himself. This was what he was always afraid of.

Yasha reached to her back, taking the hilt of Magician’s Judge in her grasp. Lightning struck a nearby tree, splintering the trunk into a million little pieces. Jester quickly darted out between them. She pressed a hand to the center of Yasha’s chest, her other arm outstretched to stop Caleb from moving.

“STOP IT!” she shouted, voice cracking. She looked back and forth between the two of them. Tears had left tracks down her cheeks, worry lines etched deep into her forehead. Silence choked the atmosphere. Thunder continued to roll throughout the town.

“Why are we fighting about this?” her hands shook, looking at both of them, “This isn’t a competition to see who can be the most hurt… Nobody won when he died, especially not us,”.

She pressed a hand to Yasha’s chest subtly casting Cure Wounds. Fjord stepped around Yasha and Jester, helping up Caleb. The fury that filled Caleb was foreign and made his head spin. 

“Why don’t we jus’ take a second to calm down,” Fjord’s hand gripped Caleb’s shoulder.

Beau flanked Yasha’s, arm snaking around her waist. Yasha resisted the direction away from the group, sparks dancing in her eyes.

“It’s not a suggestion,” Beau locked eyes with Yasha. Beau lead her to sit on the cold, hard ground beside her.

“Let’s just take a moment,” Fjord signaled for Jester and Nott to stay with Beau, keeping his tight grip on Caleb’s shoulder, “Why don’ we go for a little walk, bud?”.

Fjord steered Caleb away, walking down a dirt path to the shore. Their shoes crunched on gravel, the sky above still dark. Coming upon a fallen tree, Fjord indicated for Caleb to sit.

“All due respect, Fjord, nein. I can’t sit right now,” Caleb muttered.

“Fine by me,” Fjord sat on the log, “But if you try to run, you won’t get far,”.

Caleb grimaced, pacing back and forth. 

“Why don’ we start with what happened back there?” Fjord sat forward; elbows placed on his knees. Caleb thought about dodging the question, but the thought of putting off this conversation made him sick.

“She has no right to assume she knows shit about me, verpiss sie,” Caleb ground his teeth together. He could feel his temper rising in his temples, “Much less about what Mollymauk meant to me,”.

Fjord nodded in agreement, “You’re right, but d’you know what Molly meant to her?”.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Caleb glared at Fjord, none of this was about her. 

Fjord sighed, trying to find the words that didn’t end in a fist to the face, “We all lost someone when Molly died, Caleb. Yasha lost a brother, Beau lost a best friend, and you lost somethin’ too. You’re right that we don’ fully know what you lost, but don’ be naive ‘n assume we don’ know this pain too,”.

Caleb shoved his hands in his pockets, fists clenched so tight, his nails cut into his palms. His eyes burned as he blinked back tears, the well of emotion inside gagging him. 

“Ja genau,” he choked out, turning away from Fjord to look down at the docks.

Fjord ducked his head to try and catch Caleb’s gaze, “Y’know you can talk to me about this, right? It’s been a while, but you’re still part of the Nein which means I’ve still got your back,”. 

Caleb briefly looked back, catching Fjord’s pointed look and quickly dropping it. He turned back towards the docks, his stare drifting to his boots. What could he even admit if nothing was spoken between the two of them? He brusquely sniffed, looking forward.

“Ja okay,” Caleb sat beside Fjord, keeping his coat pulled close to his body. 

“Just go at your own pace. We’ve got all the time in the world,” Fjord reassured.

Caleb took a deep breath, adjusting his seat on the fallen log, “It’s just… It’s complicated, as you know. I loved Mollymauk more than I ever dared admit to myself. He was my world- the reason I found any purpose in life. I know we said it a lot, but he really was the best of us. For once in my life, I felt like I had a home and I felt like I could love someone again… I let myself be close to him and none of it mattered in the end. There was nothing I could ever do to save him, no matter how hard I tried. I let him down,”.

His voice turned thick in his throat. It caught on every last one of his teeth as he tried to pull the words out. It was nearly impossible… Nearly. Tears collected in his eyes, slipping down his cheeks. Stripes of pale skin peeked through the dust and dirt that was caked into his cheeks.

“He was the best of us and the only one who believed I could be anything other than a monster, but I suppose he was wrong about that one,” Caleb bitterly laughed, looking down at his palms, “You all came back, and within seconds I already fell back into old habits,”.

“Caleb, you aren’t a monster for being upset,” Fjord furrowed his brow.

Caleb barely nodded, his tears falling into his lap, “I loved Mollymauk more than I ever deserved to, but love won’t ever be enough to bring him back,”.

A sob managed to betray his bottled emotions, breaking forth from his lips. Tears began to fall from his eyes with the force of a hurricane. Caleb’s breath became jagged as the drowning feeling enveloped him once again. His sight clouded as he tried to take any sort of breath. Words crashed out from his lips on their own accord, the truth becoming too much to bear.

“I c-couldn’t even tell him o-once that I lov-ved him-” he sputtered; body racked with sobs. Fjord wrapped an arm around Caleb’s shoulders, trying to anchor him close. His own tears slipping past his eyes. 

“Jus’ let it all out,” Fjord swallowed thickly, coughing to distract himself from crying.

In a moment of clarity, Caleb found the words he had long searched for and it crushed him. 

“I fell in love with Mollymauk and I will never let myself make that same mistake,”.

They both collapsed into each other's arms, utterly overwhelmed with emotion. Though it had been months apart, the gesture felt familiar and safe. Fjord’s unmistakable smell of saltwater and brine brought Caleb down from his breakdown, reminding him of all the nights on the road they had spent together. Feeling Caleb relax, Fjord loosened his hold. He leaned back, helping Caleb sit up straighter. Sharing an exhausted look, the two couldn’t help but laugh at how wrecked they looked. 

“It’s gonna be okay. We aren’t goin’ anywhere now that we’ve found you,” Fjord ruffled Caleb’s hair. 

They sat for a few more minutes, composing their shaky breaths. Sharing a few more words, Fjord convinced Caleb to speak with the rest of the group. They started back up the path, falling into a much more comfortable silence than before. Cresting the hill once again, Caleb could see that the group had moved inside, quickly making themselves at home. He pushed open the door, Fjord trailing behind him. Jester and Beau had made themselves comfortable on his bed, Yasha had found his liquor stash, and Nott had sat herself beside the hearth toying with a handful of buttons. Their attention quickly turned to Fjord and Caleb as they entered with a gust of cool air. 

“We had a good talk ‘n it sounds like y’all were comin’ from a similar place of hurt. Y’ don’t have to talk it out right now, but maybe we all might wanna calm down ‘n be a little more patient with each other,” Fjord looked at Caleb and Yasha in particular.  
Caleb was trying to ignore the red handprints that lingered on Yasha’s shoulders, and by the looks of it, Yasha was too. Nott motioned to the space beside her, signaling for Caleb to come closer, but she didn’t get a chance to say anything before Caleb had swept her up into a hug. It was uncharacteristic and surprising, but her surprise was quickly turned into excitement as she wrapped her legs around Caleb. She buried her face in his neck, green ears poking out through his messy curls at odd angles.

“Es tut mir so Leid, Nott-” Caleb murmured, “I’m so sorry I left you,”.

“I will always forgive you, Lebby. You’re my boy and that will never ever change,” Nott squeaked, a smile spreading wide across her cheeks. Caleb set Nott down, sitting by the fire so that she could sit in his lap. She quickly scrambled into place, tucking herself under his arm.

“So, what was that all about?” Beau piped up, dodging Jester’s elbow to her side, “We haven’t seen you for months and then you and Yasha almost kill each other? We’re all mad he’s gone, but what gives?”.

“Beau! You can’t just ask it like that!” Jester protested.

“I kinda need to if he plans on killing my girl,” Beau raised an eyebrow in Jester’s direction.

“I don’t plan on killing Yasha…” Caleb sighed, running a hand along his jaw, “I don’t know how to make this simple but Mollymauk and I were… close. And when he died, it hurt me more than I could imagine, and I had to leave. I got angry when Yasha said that he was her brother because… weil… I don’t actually know why… I just have gone a very long time without anyone in my life and it was easier to be alone than face any of you again…”.

Jester’s bottom lip twitched, her tail flicking back and forth like an anxious metronome.

“Oh Caleb!” she cried out, jumping off of the bed and into his arms. She knelt beside him, throwing her arms around his neck as she wept, “I missed you so much! You can’t ever leave again!”

“I’m sorry I ever did,” a soft smile felt at home on his lips as Yasha, Beau, and Fjord joined in on the hug.

“Sorry for earlier,” Yasha mumbled noncommittally, “Guess we have more to talk about than I thought,”.


	6. The Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollymauk wakes up in a shallow grave. With only a note and a Seeker's Compass to his name, he tries to figure out where home is. Reincarnation to a previous body hasn't happened before, but then again, his lives were never anything but extraordinary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song that molly sings is The Fox by Nickel Creek !! please listen to it bc i headcanon that molly would perform it at the circus and later to the nein. it's pretty folksy, but thats why i love it so much for him!  
((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1i4dvmKhuP8 ))

Snow-covered the pass on Glory Run Road, mounding up in large drifts on the inclines of hills. Upon one hill, a stake in the ground was the only sign of the body below it. Crumpled at the base of the stake was what used to be a garishly colored cloak. Sun-bleached and worn, the colors had long since faded into muted reds and milky blues. The snow had fallen into the folds of the fabric, leaving only the stiff peaks of the collar to break through the snow line. Overhead, two sandhill cranes flew past the sun, casting a momentary shadow over the shallow grave.

Beneath the frozen Earth, there was a tremor that caused the wooden marker to shift from standing vertically to embedding in a slant. A moment of silence followed when unexpectedly, the still scene was disrupted by a sudden movement that shook the snow from the faded robe. In a flurry of purple and white, Mollymauk Tealeaf sat upright in his own grave. Coughing soil and snow, his eyes struggled to focus on the scene before him. The bright sun bounced off of the snow, blinding the tiefling.

Mollymauk held a hand up to the sun, providing a small shadow in which he could begin to take in his surroundings. Nothing but rolling white hills and trees that he could not recognize. Trying to recall anything at all, Mollymauk began to panic. Where was he? What happened? Who the hell was he? He firmly planted his hands on the ground beside his hips, forcing himself out of the ground and into a standing position. Brushing off the dirt that stuck to him like glue, Mollymauk began to grasp at the thoughts that were half-formed in his mind.

“This-” his voice cracked, sending him into a coughing fit. Pounding on his chest, he spit into the snow. It felt like he had eaten a mouthful of sand. He spit some more, melting a handful of snow in his mouth to clean out the taste of dust and decaying earth. Taking a deep breath, he began again.

“This is reincarnation,” Mollymauk held up a hand, staring at the tattoo of a snake that swallowed his hand. His skin was a shade of deep purple, the scars up and down his arms raised in lavender lines. Flexing his fingers, he started to register the cold numbness at his fingertips.

“I don’t know who I am or where I am, but I am alive. As far as what comes next, I’ll be damned if I know, but I was buried which means someone cared enough about me to give a shit about my pride,” he slightly laughed, “Guess I’m not human this time either,”.

Stretching his shoulders, he finally gave himself a good look over. He wore a white tunic that was dirtied by both time and the elements. It was tucked into remarkably tight-fitting pants, one leg patterned with diamonds, the other with stripes. Did he get stuck playing royalty again? A pair of scimitars were strapped into holsters on either side of his waist, spotted with intricate carnival glass. The iridescent finish cast rainbows across the ground. He tipped his chin, cracking his neck into place. He was startled by the soft tinkling of jewelry. Reaching up a slow hand, his fingertips brushed across the ridges of his horns, tracing them from base to tip. His fingers caught on the charms, pausing. With jewelry like this, he really must’ve been playing royalty. He looked down at his boots once again, and like the rest of his outfit, they were ostentatious. While they were just simple brown leather, they stretched up towards the middle of his thigh.

“What in the fresh hell did I do in this life? I look more like a court jester than any sort of noble” he was becoming more and more bewildered by his former sense of fashion. Looking around, he noticed some colors poking out from the snow and dirt kicked up from his resting place. He knelt down, grasping the fabric and giving it a sharp tug. Snow fell away as Mollymauk shook out a cloak. The sun had done a number on many of the panels, but within the shaded dips, the color remained vibrant. He slipped it on, smoothing it out against his figure. The pads of his fingers ran over the embroidery, sparking brief glimmers of memory deep in his subconscious.

Running a hand down his chest to smooth the crumpled fabric of his shirt, something scratched at his collarbone. He patted at the space over his heart, feeling the crinkle of paper under the cotton. Mollymauk reached under his collar, pulling out a folded note. The paper was worn and turned a pale yellow with time. Thin and shaky script spelled out the words “Mollymauk Tealeaf” and upon opening the paper, there was a long note. Water had fallen on the page, distorting the ink before it had the chance to dry.

_Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf,_

_You are a part of the Mighty Nein. Your friends are Beauregard, Fjord, Nott, Yasha, Jester, and me. I have left a compass in your pocket, concentrate and it will show you the way. Find us if you wake up._

_Long May You Reign,_  
_Caleb Widogast_

Seeing the names written before him, it was the oddest sense of jamais vu. These were the people that buried him, the ones that cared for him, but there was no sense of familiarity behind the words. It was like talking to someone who insists they know you, but there is not a single thing you could recall about them- even if your life depended on it. Mollymauk folded the note and tucked it into his boot, pressing it flat to his calf. He felt around his pant pockets to no avail. Patting down the tails of his coat, he heard the click of metal on metal. He felt around for a hidden pocket, the compass shoved deep within the confines of the fabric.

“Well thanks, everyone, whoever you are,” Mollymauk slightly smiled, flipping open the lid. The needle of the compass rotated loosely in the casing, showing no definite sense of orientation. It rattled around in the casing as Mollymauk turned it around in circles. He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“And a bigger thank you for the absolutely useless compass,” he fished the note out from his boot, rereading it. Either this was a cruel joke or there was something he was missing.

“Concentrate on it? Is that what I’m supposed to be doing? Couldn’t have hurt you to leave better directions,” Mollymauk clicked his tongue, returning the note to his boot. He held the compass between both of his hands, concentrating his energy on the compass. Nothing. He paused, shaking it around and watching the needle spin aimlessly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mollymauk groaned, “You can’t find the Nein? Fine. Me neither. What about this Jester person?”.

The needle drifted aimlessly.

“What about Fjord, Nott, or Beauregard?”.

Nothing.

“Yasha? What about Yasha?” he pleaded, staring down at the compass. The needle traced a lazy circle.

“Well isn’t this wonderful, Mister Caleb Widogast. Leave a broken compass with a dead body, what a good joke,” he glared at the face of the compass. The needle jumped, startling Mollymauk. He fumbled the compass, nearly launching it into a particularly deep snowdrift. He caught it in his palm, balanced precariously with his other hand on the staff that marked his grave. Mollymauk’s eyes narrowed as he straightened up.

“Find Caleb Widogast,” he commanded the compass. The needle was unwavering, pointing slightly south of due west. He turned in a spot, the needle staying pointed towards the rolling hills. Mollymauk barked out a laugh, mouth stretched into a wide grin, “Guess I know where to start looking,”.

He wrenched the stake out of the ground, holding it up next to him. It hit just above his hip, which garnered his approval as far as acceptable walking stick heights were concerned. Thus, he began his journey West. Winter had just begun to settle in, but it didn’t seem to phase the tiefling. The snow was a beautiful sight over the rolling hills. The snowfall had come early this year and many trees were still thick with leaves. Icicles glittering from the branches, clinking together in wind.

Mollymauk marveled at the landscape, trekking over the hills. It occurred to him to follow a path to find a town, but that was what he always seemed to do when he woke back up. This time there was unfinished business and people that cared about him. It was unusual, but not unwelcome. Bits and pieces of his memory flit in and out of his thoughts, briefly distracting him with a sound or a smell.

One memory broke through to the forefront, causing Mollymauk to falter. He could hear the distant sound of children laughing. The music of a carnival played in and out, mingling with the children’s speech. A shadow appeared beside him, muttering something about an act. There wasn’t much he could recall other than pale skin and a mass of curled hair and dreadlocks.

“Molly, it’s time to open the tent for readings,”

Just as quickly as the memory had come, it had vanished. Mollymauk tried to keep the memories after they passed, but it was like chasing a dream moments after waking. Nothing lasted long enough to establish anything other than a brief feeling of recognition. Even the emotions that felt so vibrant seconds prior were reduced to nothing but an afterglow.

Mollymauk shook off the feeling. Normally, he was unable to access much of a memory as he was brought into a new body each time, but this was clearly an exceptional case. There must be a greater reason for his return, he thought to himself. While the Moonweaver was not a stranger to encouraging fate through unorthodox means, this was not something Mollymauk was familiar with in the slightest. It seemed wrong to return to a life that had already been lived, but nevertheless, it was his own to return to.

He began to softly sing to himself, the notes coming from something deeper than a memory. It seemed ingrained in whoever he used to be. A feeling began to bubble in his stomach, something familiar and exciting. His voice grew as he matched his pace to an imaginary beat.

“The fox ran out on a chilly night  
He prayed for the moon to give him light  
For he’d many a mile to go that night  
Before he reached the town-o, town-o, town-o  
He had many a mile to go that night before he reached the town-o,”.

A smile broke across his face as his fingers fluttered against his walking stick. This was going to be quite the adventure.


	7. Funeral Bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb introduces Nott to Mister Clay. The air around them begins to change and Caleb feels something greater than them all looming overhead. Something is coming.

After a few nights at Saint Bernard’s, the Nein had begun to negotiate some deals with business owners. There was a dilapidated house across town on some land owned by the town fishmonger. Fjord had managed to convince him to hire him as help on the boat in exchange for the land. Beau and Yasha spoke with the carpenter and blacksmith respectively, working out similar deals, this exchanging work for materials. Jester joined in at the bakery, the elderly woman that runs the shop snapping her up the second she saw Jester pick up bags of flour with ease. 

Nott, however, was wary of the reception of goblins in a town like this. Transitive towns were open-minded, but people passing through were not always so kind. Thus, she spent most days wandering around, bothering whichever of the Nein she deemed fit. Today, she sat on Caleb’s bed, playing with Frumpkin while Caleb prepared his paper and inks.

“So what are we even doing today? Because if we’re just sitting inside, we might as well go and drink,” Nott sighed. It had taken the pair of them very little time for the two of them to fall back into old habits. Repressing obvious emotional conflicts was kind of their strong suit.

Caleb glanced over his shoulder, aligning a stack of papers, “Na ja, I have to go to transcribe some spells at the shop and pick up some slack,”.

“We’re gonna be inside a library all day?” Nott groaned.

“Nein, it’s not a library. It’s the shop,” Caleb corrected, corking a bottle of ink.

“But do I have to be quiet like in a library?”

“Nein,” Caleb shook his head, “But you might have to help Mister Clay if he asks,”.

Nott begrudgingly accepted. As much as she had missed Caleb, she didn’t miss the part where she had to entertain herself for hours on end while he worked. She lifted Frumpkin, perching him on her shoulders.

“I suppose it’s just you and me today,” she mumbled, Frumpkin lazily batted at the gold hoop in one of her ears.

Caleb ignored Nott’s whining, pulling on his coat, and tucking the paper under his arm. He held open the door for Nott, patting her head as she passed. As much as he struggled to cope with the Nein’s return in his life, he couldn’t deny the safety he felt from having Nott back. 

Nott reached up, holding Caleb’s hand. The act spoke volumes for what went unsaid. Caleb slightly smiled, lifting a hand to his mouth to mutter a message to Caduceus.

“Mister Clay, it appears I have a companion today. I apologize in advance.”

The response was quick, a hearty laugh filling his mind, “A friend is no problem at all,”.

Nott swung their hands back and forth, her gaze darting between the shop windows. Jester was kneading bread in the front window, sleeves pushed up around her elbows. She jumped, looking around upon receiving a blaring Message from Nott. She looked out to see Nott and Caleb, a grin splitting across her face. Rapping on the window with a heavily floured hand, Jester caught their attention. She motioned for them to come inside and they accepted her offer. Caleb and Nott pushed into the small shop, the instantaneous heat and smell of spices overwhelming their senses. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead! I was wondering if I was going to see you today,” Jester sang, patting her hands on her apron.

“He was awake but was being so boring that sleep was more interesting,” Nott stood on her tiptoes, peeking over the edge of the counter.

“Don’t you complain,” Jester chided, “Remember how sad you were before we found him? It is far better that he is a bore,”.

Nott stuck her tongue out at Jester. Caleb wasn’t sure whether he should be insulted by the statement or appreciative of how much they cared about him. Jester turned, tossing the towel from her shoulder over the dough on the counter. 

“Sooo, what are you doing today?” she rest her elbows on the pastry case.

“I have some work to do with Mister Clay and Nott is coming with,” said Caleb.

“Oh! You’re the one that works for Mister Clay?” Jester giggled, realization dawning on her.

“Ja?” Caleb was confused and slightly worried by her recognition, “Do you know him?”.

“Of course I know him, Cay-leb,” she stretched out his name, “I have only been here for a few days, but he always comes by for bread. And he’s always talking about his little wizard friend,”.

“He is?” Caleb’s anxiety returned to the pit in his stomach.

“Oh yeah,” Jester smugly grinned, picking up on the blush creeping into Caleb’s cheeks, “He just loves you sooooo much and he says that he has never met someone so wonderful… Or stinky!”.

Nott laughed, high fiving Jester. A cloud of flour burst between the two of them, making them both laugh even harder.

“Okay well that’s all and good, but I don’t see how it concerns you,” he muttered, looking down at the floor. The dutch door behind the counter creaked open, an elderly dwarven woman waddled out. 

“Oi- what’re y’all doin’ out here? Distractin’ Jester on the job?” she scolded, shaking her finger at the three of them, “You better be buyin’ somethin’ after all this chatter,”.

Jester laughed, dismissing her with a hand, “It’s okay, Eudora, they already picked out some buns,”.

“We did?” Caleb was cut off by a pinch to his thigh, “Ow-”.

“Yes, that’s right!” Nott looked at Caleb pointedly. She shared an exaggerated wink with Jester, who passed a parcel full of sweet buns over the counter.

“We were just discussing town events and whatnot,” Jester charmingly smiled.

Eudora rolled her eyes with a smile, shooing Nott and Caleb out the door, “I’m sure you were. Now off you pop, you’re distracting the only thing keeping this business afloat,”.

Nott and Caleb saw themselves out, calling out their goodbyes to Jester and thanks to Eudora. Immediately, Nott tucked into the pastries, gobbling down a few before Caleb pulled the bag from her hands. She began to protest but was met with a stern look.

“If you eat that fast, we both know you’ll get a nasty stomach ache,” he chided, folding the top of the bag shut. Nott opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t come up with a retort, he was right. Caleb slightly smiled, leading them down a side street that lead to the building with the large smokestacks.

“So what is that big ol’ building anyway? I haven’t seen anything that big since Zadash,” Nott asked, pointing to the building.

“Oh, I believe it is some kind of forge? I am honestly not too sure, though,” Caleb pursed his lips in thought, “However, I do know that it helps to power the greenhouse at the apothecary,”.

“It seems awful big and fancy just to be a forge,” Nott furrowed her brow, looking at the building with great scrutiny. 

Caleb simply shrugged, “I do not disagree, but that is what I have been told,”.

He turned down a side street, coming upon the apothecary. Caleb held the door, ushering Nott inside.

“Guten Morgen,” Caleb called out into the shop, looking around to wherever Caduceus may be. He was met with silence. Hanging up his coat, he hung Nott’s beside his. He brought a hand to his lips, sending a Message.

“Guten Morgen, Mister Clay. Are you in this morning?”.

Warmth filled his body as a reply filled his thoughts, “Good morning Mister Widogast, I am just in the greenhouse! Come on back,”.

Nott was already entranced by all of the vials and herbs that hung around the shop. High ceilings seemed to stretch even further for someone her height. She ran around to the tables, watching various vials and beakers bubble over enchanted fires. 

“You really work here?” she grinned, eyeing a particularly bright set of copper measuring spoons.

“Ja, I really work here,” Caleb shook his head, directing her away with a palm on her shoulder. He lead her past the stockroom and nearly had to drag her gaze away from the rows and rows of perfectly pocket-sized potions and herbs, “Please don’t get me fired,”.

“I won’t get you fired, Lebby!” Nott looked up at him with the sweetest look she could muster, “I’m far too talented to get caught,”.

Caleb let out a long exhale through his nose, steering her into the greenhouse. Immediately, the smell of earth and greenery hit her nostrils. Humidity clung to her skin in a way that was foreign to her. Nott had never experienced this sort of humidity in a positive light. The closest she had ever come to the sensation was in chilly swamps and bogs with far too many nasty creatures. A shock of pink, curled hair poked out from around a larger fern. 

“Good morning Caleb,” Caduceus grinned, slipping thick gardening gloves from his hands. He tucked them into his pocket, meeting them where they stood. Nott craned her neck to look up at him as he embraced Caleb, eyes wide. Caduceus subtly pressed a kiss to Caleb’s cheek causing crimson blush to skyrocket to his cheeks. Something within Caleb suddenly switched, as his stomach began to twist itself into knots.

Caduceus stepped back to get a closer look at Nott, giving her a warm smile, “And good morning to you, too, little one,”.

Caleb tried to compose himself, his heart pounding in his chest, “Caduceus, this is my uh- good friend, Nott. She is part of the Mighty Nein. Nott, this is my… uh... boss, Caduceus Clay,”.

“Well it is a pleasure to meet you-” Caduceus began.

“Do you know Pumat Sol?” she blurted out, cutting off his greeting. Caleb internally cringed at the complete lack of manners.

Caduceus slightly laughed, furrowing his brow, “No uh… I can’t say that I do. Is that a place or a person?”.

“He’s another firbolg. From Zadash,” she explained as if it would make him suddenly know who she was talking about.

Caduceus shook his head, “I can’t say that I know him, I apologize,”.

“I should be the one apologizing,” Caleb sighed. Now he couldn’t tell whether his blush was because of Nott’s manners, or Caduceus’ affection, “Normally, we try to have better manners…”.

Caduceus dismissed Caleb’s worry with a wave of his hand, “There’s no need to worry. I like her energy,”. 

Caleb rubbed his temples, trying to compose himself. Nott had fully disregarded Caleb’s disdain and had run off to explore the greenhouse. Caduceus took the opportunity to take Caleb’s hand in his own, squeezing it tight. His expression searched to understand if everything was okay. Caleb looked up at him with a very slight smile that hid the anxiety building in his chest. In contrast to the scowl that seemed to be etched into stone, the faint smile was a welcome change. Things were okay for now.

Meanwhile, Nott had discovered venus flytraps with mouths as long as her forearm and beautiful flowers with petals the size of dinner plates. She prodded at a vine and watched as the leaves retracted up into the stem, curling into a tight spiral. Around the corner of a long table sat beautiful red and orange lilies that seemed to glow amongst the shadows.

“What do all of these do?” she called back, peeking in and around the pots.

Caduceus’ attention was drawn from Caleb as he lead him over to Nott’s side among the lilies. He gently let go of Caleb’s hand, stooping to pluck one of the flowers from its stem.

“Many of these are used for various potions and medical tinctures,” he twirled the delicate stem between his fingers, “But they can also be used for tea or rituals if that is what you desire. I am fortunate enough to be able to grow anything that I desire in this wonderful greenhouse,”.

“What’s this one do though?” Nott pointed at the one pinched between his index finger and thumb.

“This one is a cinderpetal. It is used most often to make alchemist’s fire, but as a tea, it is quite spicy and bright,”.

Nott vaguely nodded, already distracted by a tangle of vines that seemed to be undulating around a nondescript lump, “And that?”.

Caduceus smiled wide, tucking the flower behind his large ear, “Ah yes, that would be the gripweed. They’re quite the feisty grow,”.

“What are they uh… eating? Or uh... strangling?” Nott struggled to find a verb to suited their action. 

“They are eating,” Caduceus corrected, his bright smile unsuited for the following description of what their prey would go through. Between brutal asphyxiation and absorption via vine, suddenly Nott found herself without much of an appetite.

“They won’t get big enough to hurt you though. I keep them trimmed quite small as I often have use for their poison. But enough about what I do back here, why don’t we go back into the shop and talk. I’m sure you wanted to get some work done today,” he clapped a hand on Caleb’s shoulder, “But it is the slow season and I am far more interested in getting to know about what has transpired these last few days,”.

Caduceus walked with them back to the large hearth in the workshop, leaving them to go find more comfortable seats than the stone floor. Caleb flicked a small flame into the ashes, bringing life and light to the room. Nott stood before him with a shit-eating grin.

“_Was ist los_? Why do you have that look on your face,” he sighed, placing the buns at the fireside to warm.

“He likes you,” Nott teased, narrowing her eyes at him.

Caleb couldn’t deny the blush that instinctively tinted his cheeks, “I fail to see how that is relevant to anything. Besides, you know must know by now that I can’t love after what happened,”.

Nott was taken aback, “That’s not a good thing to be bragging about, Caleb,”.

A knot found its way around Caleb’s stomach, making him queasy. Something had rapidly changed just moments ago and now everything was wrong. Caduceus was a good man and maybe someone he could have loved in another life, but this wasn’t right. He could feel something larger than life looming above himself and it felt like he was suffocating. Once again, he felt like he was being pulled in two directions simultaneously. While one direction was moving on, the other was a gut feeling that none of this was over yet. Caleb thickly swallowed, avoiding Nott’s prying eyes. Caduceus returned with seats for the three of them, arranging them around the fireplace in a semicircle. He hung a copper kettle above the flames, setting up a small table with mugs and various tea steeping accessories. 

“Do either of you have a preference for tea?” Caduceus smiled, gesturing to the various tins on the table. Nott crouched beside the table, carefully reading the contents of each tin, whereas Caleb simply shrugged.

“Which one is best?” Nott asked, taking a deep sniff from a well-worn canister. It smelled bright and fruity, cut with warm spices. The smell took her right back to the winter markets in Zadash. She and Jester would curl up in the inn, reading whatever new book they could get their hands on.

Caduceus pursed his lips in thought, “That is a good question. Though they all are quite remarkable, I would have to say… the sea buckthorn or the sunberry. The latter is quite rare, but I grow it quite freely,”.

“You can decide, actually,” Nott’s voice was muffled as she stuck her nose deep into another tin.

Caduceus obliged, carefully fulling strainers full of various dried herbs and petals. He placed them into empty teacups, leaning back in his seat. While his calm demeanor helped to relieve some of the tension, Caleb sat perched at the edge of his seat. He was clearly on edge both mentally and physically. To distract himself, he retrieved a book from one of his holsters. Absentmindedly, he thumbed through the pages without reading a word. Caleb was startled when his name was nearly shouted in his ear. He jumped in his seat, sending his book tumbling to the floor. Nott looked at him expectantly, holding out a steaming cup in his direction. 

“Entschuldigung,” he weakly apologized, accepting the cup.

Caduceus launched into conversation with Nott, discussing their arduous journey west and what it had taken to find Caleb once again. Nott grew excited as she told exaggerated tales of bugbears and wolves that they had to fight off in the night. Jumping out of her seat, she pantomimed the gruesome death of a pack of gibberlings that had attempted an ambush on the road. Meanwhile, Caleb let his tea turn cold as he stared deep into the coals of the fire. He felt sick to his stomach as of late and was trying to figure out what was eating away at him once again. It was like a pulse of arcane energy was tugging at the back of his mind and pulling him far away from the present. He tuned out the conversation at hand, trying to focus his energy out towards the source. Reaching out into the void, his consciousness brushed up against something else. It felt like the heartbeat of a young bird, faint and fluttering. Instinctively, he recoiled back. Fainter yet, he could still feel the rolling pulse in the distance. Bile rose into the back of his throat, forcing him to drop his focus and quickly gulp down his tea. The skeletons in his closet were taunting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is pretty much bulky filler to establish something intangible. things need to change, but it cant be too instantaneous, you know? it'll get better, i promise!! just gotta get through some of the boring semantics to get to the good stuff,,,


	8. Where Is Your Rider?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollymauk finds aid in his search for the Nein. Memories are exchanged, but only one is familiar.

A handful of days had passed since Mollymauk had come back to consciousness. He had set off into the plains of Wildemount in hopes of following this compass back to the people who knew him last. He had followed into one of the forests that dotted the land. The lowest of the branches were nearly six feet above him, dwarfing him in their height. Mollymauk searched for some semblance of shelter in the sparse wood, eventually finding a crude ladder nailed into one of the trees. It lead up to a rickety hunting stand. Tucked away into the branches, Mollymauk hauled himself up into the structure. Exhaustion eventually got the better part of him as he drifted to sleep.

Since starting his journey, Mollymauk seldom slept. Between the vigilance required by sleeping alone in the woods and the strange dreams that occupied his sleep, he tended to favor exhaustion over the two. The meager protection offered by the stand, though, was enough for his body to relax and allow sleep to find him. Anything was an improvement from sleeping up against a trunk with his sword in hand.

He had hardly fallen asleep when the dream hit him at full force. A cart swayed beneath him and heat was pressed to either side of him. Trying to look around, he could only see blurs of green and blue beside him. Across the way sat the large figure from his first dream. This time, though, Mollymauk could make out dark holes where eyes would be and thick braids that pulled the curls back from the figure’s face. His eyes still struggled to form any concrete facial features. He felt as though he was wearing a pair of thick glasses that distorted his vision into a funhouse mirror. Reaching up to rub his eyes, Mollymauk couldn’t feel his arms at all. He tried to move his muscles or even wiggle his fingers, but there was nothing.  
“Careful, you wouldn’t want to wake them,” the woman spoke with a low rumble, “We have all had a long day and need to rest,”.

It didn’t even cross his mind to protest her statement. Mollymauk leaned back against the caravan wall, letting the peace lull him into a sense of security. The scene dissolved as he jolted awake. It appeared that he had slept through the night as the soft pink light of sunrise filtered through the tall trees. A sound outside the stand startled him back to reality as he scrambled to sit out of view from the crude window cut in the side of the stand. Tucking his knees to his chest, he scooted out of sight from the hole in the floor that acted as a door. After a few moments of steady breathing, he peeked his head around to the window beside his head. A few meters away, a giant elk pushed through the underbrush with a spotted calf in tow. The lower branches of trees were pushed out of the way by the antlers of the mother.

Mollymauk stilled, holding his breath as he watched them pass by. Something about the sight was so surreal as light cast beams all around them. Even in the distance, their size was truly awesome. In their young age, the calf would still tower over him. He relaxed the grip on the hilt of his sword as their footsteps crunched through the snow that had fallen through the branches.

Deeper in the woods, an owl cooed out a song, causing the beasts to pause in their tracks. The mother’s ear’s cocked in the direction of the sound. Her calf pressed into her side, nearly standing beneath her hulking figure. The elk tipped her head back and let out a screaming bugle. It shook the forest, sending flocks of birds to the sky. Mollymauk gasped, quickly ducking away from the window’s view, the cry reverberating in his chest. After a moment, he peeked his head back into view, watching as the mother ushered her calf along. The pair quickly fell back into a comfortable gait, content with having scared off whatever predators lurked deeper in the woods.

Mollymauk watched them disappear out of sight, taking the time to admire the power they held. The thought of something so great and powerful, yet so gentle made him smile. He climbed down from the stand, adjusting his scimitars on his hips. Pulling out his compass, he took a moment to concentrate on where he was heading. The needle dipped in a lazy circle before stopping just south of due west, as usual. Mollymauk gently thanked the compass, slipping it back into his robe. As he walked, his mind began to wander with him. What were the Mighty Nein like? Were they some kind of rebellious group that specialized in vigilante justice? Or were they generous and stole from the rich to give to the poor? They could all be trained assassins and mercenaries for all he knew. But then again, when was the last time a mercenary cared enough to bury someone? Hopefully, they were nice.

As he walked, the sun grew brighter and brighter. The day began to warm ever so slightly, causing the snow to begin to melt. Water dripped from the branches above, speckling Mollymauk’s shoulders. He held out an open palm, allowing the droplets to pool in the middle of his hand. Swirling the water in his hand, he tipped it into his mouth, savoring the cool water. It was crisp and bright, washing out any stale taste he had in his mouth. Reincarnation was a tricky business, but there was an inexplicable aspect of life that was always worth returning to. Life always included more than its share of pain, but simultaneously, there was so much good to be experienced.

Mollymauk’s thoughts drifted to a new song that surfaced in his memory. He began to whistle the melody as he watched his breath rise in wisps of steam. Birds hidden in the branches above began to pick up on the melody, echoing across the wood. Whistling louder, he looked up at the sky above. The clouds were painted with soft pastel blues as the weather began to clear.

After hours of pushing through the forest, Mollymauk paused in an open glen to take in his surroundings. It would be a while before he could use his compass again so he would have to look for directions another way. The sun above him sat just past high noon, beginning its lazy descent into sunset.

“It rises in the east and sets in the west, right?” Mollymauk pondered aloud, scratching at his head, “Or maybe it’s the other way around… Isn’t there something about Quen’pillar and the harvest having something to do with it too?”.

He sighed, leaning on his walking stick. Looking out into the forest, he was unsure if he was looking for signs of life or divine intervention to spur him onward. A raccoon a few hundred feet away waddled through the snow, hands full of crumpled leaves and twigs. That wasn’t quite what he was looking for. Turning back around, he caught sight of movement deep in the underbrush. Squinting his eyes, the fuzzy shapes of two humanoid figures began to stand out against the dull gray woods. The pair seemed to be on horseback, moving with a sense of purpose.

Mollymauk picked up his whistling again as he set off to follow them. Not wanting to alarm them, he didn’t try to hide his presence in any way. There was always a chance he was going to be attacked in return, but he figured the need to find help greatly outweighed the risk. It did not take long before his whistling caught their attention. Glancing back at him, the figures pulled to the side, giving him space to pass. Mollymauk approached with his palms up and a bright smile. The closer he got, the taller one person became, the other shrinking down. The taller of the two appeared to be a tall firbolg woman with soft brown fur and large brown eyes. The shorter hopped down from their horse, blowing an exhale of cigarette smoke up in his face. Mollymauk turned away, stifling a cough into his elbow.

“What do you want,” came a huff from the dwarven woman that spoke up. She had short red hair that matched the stubble that was coming in on her jaw. Silver plate mail stood out against the muted tones of the forest.

“Me?” Mollymauk flashed a charming smile, “I’m just hoping for some help and directions. I’m not from the area,”.

The woman narrowed her eyes, armor creaking as she crossed her arms. Looking back at her companion who had dismounted and buried her nose in a small bag. Glancing over at the dwarven woman, she warmly smiled, nodding her head.

“He smells like home,” she said definitively, “We can trust him,”.

The tall woman held a hand up in greeting, “My name is Nila, and this is Keg,”.

The dwarven woman tipped her chin in acknowledgment, taking a drag of the cigarette between her lips. She exhaled the smoke with a sigh, holding up her hands in defeat, “Well, you better start talking. Where are you trying to go?”.

Mollymauk sheepishly laughed, “Well that’s sort of the issue. I’m kind of stuck in a… unique situation, for lack of a better word. I’m not sure where I’m trying to go, but I do know who I’m looking for,”.

“And that would be?” Keg quickly replied, nearly cutting off his sentence. She clearly had no interest in social niceties.

“I think they’re called the Mighty Nein?” he reached down into his boot, pulling out his letter, “I guess I died and was reincarnated and now the only thing that I know is that I was part of a group called the Mighty Nein,”.

He unfolded the letter, holding it out to them. Keg narrowed her eyes, reading. As her gaze fell on the name of the Nein, everything seemed to still. The cigarette between her lips went limp, nearly falling onto the forest floor. Nila’s eyes grew large as the two of them started to put the pieces together. Keg whipped around, mouth agape.

“Is this… He’s the one-” she blubbered, trying to form frantic thoughts into words, “The one that Beau- you know-”.

Nila looked at Keg and then back at Mollymauk, “The friend who fell at Glory Run Road… I remember the stories…”.

She dropped her pouch to her side, resting a hand on Keg’s shoulder as she stepped around to Mollymauk. She smiled, shaking her head, “By the Gods, you are Molly…”

Overjoyed, she pulled him into a tight hug, pressing his face into her chest. Mollymauk froze, giving her a gentle hug back.

“Did I know you too?” Mollymauk awkwardly laughed, pulling away. Nila shook her head. Keg stared at him, clearly bewildered.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Nila lightly laughed, the smile never leaving her face.

“I can only imagine. I remember nothing… But… You knew my name before I even said it,” Mollymauk admitted.

“We have much to talk about, however, Keg and I, we have quite a way to travel yet. I believe we can trust you if the Mighty Nein do, seeing as we’ve already trusted our lives with them once,” Nila shared a knowing look with Keg, “Why don’t you come with? We cannot promise the highest quality of travel, but there is something to be said for safety in numbers,”.

Mollymauk was taken aback at the offer. People were not normally so trusting, but the Nein had clearly meant something to these people, and he had clearly meant something to the Nein.

“That would be very kind of you all. I would greatly appreciate traveling with you,” Mollymauk accepted.

“We better get moving then,” Keg grumbled, deftly hoisting herself back up onto her horse. She snapped the reins, picking up their pace once again. Nila rest a hand between Mollymauk’s shoulder blades, gesturing for him to take the second horse. She took a moment to press her forehead to the horses, seeming to speak to it. With ease she climbed on, taking the reins.

“Do not worry about our friend, he is strong and can easily carry us,” she said, the concern of two passengers on one horse clearly worn on Mollymauk’s face. He clumsily pulled himself up behind her, sitting side-saddle. Gently tugging on the reins, they caught up to Keg. The two horses matched pace as they pressed on.

“So what the hell happened with everything?” Keg was the first to speak, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Mollymauk opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come to him. It was a very good question. He scratched the back of his head, looking down at his lap.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I woke up alone in my own grave a few days ago. Nothing but the clothes on my back and the note,” Mollymauk’s train of thought stalled, unsure how to continue.

“Has this uh… has this happened to you before?” Keg asked dubiously.

Mollymauk brought his attention back to Keg, both of them sharing a confused look that made them laugh. Shaking his head, he let the smile sit on his lips.

“It has happened in the past, but not like this. I have lived a few different lives, but I have always come back in a different body,”.

“Until now?” Nila spoke over her shoulder.

“Until now,” he agreed, “Reincarnation is already uncommon, but this is especially odd. I mean, I am stepping back into my life without memories. I must have some seriously unfinished business if the Moonweaver brought me back to this life. She always has a reason, but this one escapes me,”.

“I have never heard of such a god, but she brought you back which means that she must be kind,” Nila closed her eyes at the happy thought.

“Or vengeful. I haven’t decided which yet. But I suppose that I should start by asking you what you know about me. Who are the Mighty Nein and who am I?”.

Nila began to tell the story of their time with the Mighty Nein. Camping one night, the Iron Shepherds had raided nearby camps, taking Jester, Fjord, and Yasha of the Nein. During the first battle to get them back, Mollymauk had fallen, and the Shepherds escaped. Nila and Keg had joined the Nein on their journey to Shadycreek Run, in hopes of rescuing their own friends and family. However, by the time that they joined in, the man named Caleb had left. They didn’t say much about Mollymauk, but it was clear that they were hurting. Grief-stricken and angry, the four of them had stormed the Sour Nest and ended Lorenzo’s reign of terror. After reuniting with the rest of the Nein, Nila and Keg had traveled back with them to pay their respects. The Nein had shared bittersweet stories at his grave, sharing more than a few tears with each other as well.

Mollymauk listened attentively, trying to take in everything they said. Flickers of sounds and smells began to surface as he took in the second-hand memories. He reached into his pocket, clutching the compass tight. He had a family to find, which was both terrifying and exciting. How was he supposed to return to the familiar when it was so alien?

“And you both are sure that I’m the same person as they talked about?” he cut off Keg mid-sentence.

“You were buried hillside on Glory Run Road. The coat that you wear now was left on the cross,” Nila nodded.

“And unless you can find another purple, tattooed tiefling with gaudy ass clothes? Sounds like this one’s you, champ,” Keg scoffed, eyeing his questionably patterned clothes.

Nila turned around, pressing a pouch into his hands. It was the same one that she had held her nose in earlier. Mollymauk looked at her for direction.

“That is my smell bag. I have put important pieces of the earth in that bag. Each piece being something I grew or loved very much. Whenever I am unsure of what to do, I ask for help from the earth. Maybe it can help you too,”.

Mollymauk tugged open the drawstrings, peering into the contents. Husks of star anise and wrinkled berries were scrambled with dried moss and red earth. The faint smell of expired fruit and wharf drifted up, causing him to recoil. Nila laughed, nudging him with her shoulder.

“It is telling you not to doubt it’s ability. Go ahead,” she urged him.

Mollymauk nervously pressed his nose into the bag, deeply inhaling. All at once, he was overwhelmed. The smell of smoke and fire mixed with lavender and sage. Damp earth and cold wind lingered before the smell of musk took over. It didn’t smell like anything natural or known, it smelled like someone. There was a flash of fire and red hair, warmth flooding his chest. He knew this. He knew this well. Mollymauk closed his eyes, breathing in deeper. He saw a face behind his eyelids. It was warped and ever-changing, but he was able to make out spotty stubble and cool blue eyes. Red-brown hair was swept past his chin, falling into the upturned collar of a stained and tattered long coat. Mollymauk’s eyes flew open as he grabbed a fistful of Nila’s tunic.

“I remember Caleb,”.


	9. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb and Yasha take time to grieve and air grievances they never knew they had. Caduceus tries to help and Caleb lets him.

The early morning sun had risen with a vigor that Caleb hadn’t seen for months. Beams of light broke through the dull winter, starting the long process of melting ice dams from roof corners. Despite the warmth that began to dissolve the cold, a biting wind whipped around the street corners. Caleb tugged shoddily knit gloves over his hands, his fingertips peeking through worn holes at the ends of the fingers. He was by no means a knitter, but shitty gloves proved to be better than the frostbite that came with no gloves.

He had spent more time with company than he had in a very long time, and though it was welcome, his introverted nature needed a moment of respite. Looking out at one of the shorter mountains, there was a faint hint of brown against the white. The path that snaked up the mountainside looked like a stray thread on white cloth. It was made of packed snow that was dirtied with use. 

Digging a staff into the snow, he began his laborious ascent to the summit. While the path stood out against the snow, it was by no means an easy route to the top. Patches of melted snow turned to ice in the shadows. The wind became sharper the higher Caleb climbed, fiercely stinging his cheeks. Wrapping his scarf up around his chin, he squinted into the light as he rounded a shadowed pass. The sun had melted the snow on the other side of the mountain, leaving mud and dead foliage in its wake. He trudged through the muddied path, boots suctioning to the earth with each step. 

Wedging his staff deeper into the dirt, Caleb managed to pull himself up the last couple meters, bringing him to the summit. A few hours had passed since he began and the sun sat nearing the horizon. Looking up at the cloudless sky, Caleb took a deep breath in through his nose. He had time. 

Caleb laid out a worn bedroll, dirtied and stained from ample use. He slowly sat down, joints creaking in protest to the movement. Digging through his pockets, he fished out a golden chain with a small pendant. Staring at it in his hands, he could feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Two golden hands cradled a tri pointed ruby cluster, the tallest point framed with gold to attach to the chain. The jewelry piece was unmistakably the Periapt of Wound Closure, owned by none other than Mollymauk Tealeaf. 

There was a terrible irony to dying with a necklace that was enchanted to save the dying. Caleb briefly felt tears on his cheeks, but they quickly turned to frost. Frozen tears streaked Caleb’s cheeks as he wept for the first time in days. He had been swept up into the whirlwind that was life with others, completely distracted from everything else in his life. Between work and spending time with the Nein, he found little time for himself and his own woes. To be too busy to think was both a blessing and a curse.

Caleb ran a thumb over the points of the pendant in an act that had become second nature to him. He pressed the crisp edges into the pad of his thumb, seeming to scratch an invisible itch. “If only” and “I should have” seemed to preface each thought as Caleb went back through his last moments on Glory Run Road. The scene played out like it did every time, only two things remaining clear. Time and time again, Mollymauk fell, and time and time again, Caleb ran. 

The sound of heavy footfall and slick mud brought him out of his thoughts. Boots breaking free of the suction of earth, Yasha’s tall shadow rounded the corner. Her fur cloak sat on one shoulder, the other bare to the elements. Her braids pulled back with a leather cord, whipped wildly behind her. Caleb closed the necklace in his fist, roughly wiping his eyes with a gloved hand. The rough wool scraped his skin. He looked up at her, silently offering a place beside him. Yasha obliged, stretching her long legs before her.

“It’s quite the view,” she mumbled, the disdain of small talk clear in each word.

“Ja,” Caleb shared her disdain.

Reaching into her pocket, Yasha pulled out a metal case. Flicking it open, two cigarettes stood beside each other. They were clearly hand-rolled; the tanned paper crinkled along the seam. She held one out to Caleb, tucking the other between her lips. He hesitated. He knew how rare these were outside of the Empire. Yasha nudged the case towards him again, she was getting tired of his trepidation. Taking the hint, Caleb took the cigarette. He lit them both with his index finger, extinguishing the small flame with a snap. He tucked his legs under himself, taking a deep breath. Smoke burned his eyes and his lungs something fierce, but in the most satisfying way. Yasha exhaled a thin stream of smoke, watching the wind take it and throw it out across the canyon. 

“You miss him?” Yasha asked without turning her head.

Caleb was taken aback at the question, “Do I miss him?”.

She simply grunted in affirmation.

“I… well… ja,” Caleb shrugged, “How is that even a question?”.

“It wasn’t. It was an effort to try and make this easier,”.

The corner of Caleb’s lip twitched with a sympathetic smile, “Right,”.

A moment of silence fell between them. Yasha flicked ash into the dirt, sighing, “It’s not fair,”.

Caleb nodded, blowing out smoke. There was no disputing that any part of this was unfair.

“Fuck, it’s not fair,” she growled through her teeth, digging her heels into the mud, “If Lorenzo wasn’t already dead, I would flay him and leave him for the birds,”.

She took a final drag of her cigarette, snuffing out the butt in the dirt, “But it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing to be done about it now,”.

“That’s a load of shit,” Caleb shot a glance at her.

Yasha raised an eyebrow, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, “That fucker’s dead isn’t he?”.

Caleb stayed silent.

“You think you’re special enough to kill a dead man?” she looked back out at the skyline. The fur of her cloak danced in the silence.

Caleb quickly looked away and sucked his teeth, “Nein,”.

“You said that I don’t know what Molly meant to you, and you’re right. But you forget who knew him first. Before the Nein. Before Alfield. It was just me and him,” Yasha furrowed her brow, trying to prevent her tears from falling, “He was my brother, but that doesn’t matter. I wasn’t there for him,”.

“Yasha, you can’t blame yourself for that. Everything happened in seconds,” Caleb retorted, leaving his cigarette hanging between his fingers.

“And how is that any different than what happened with the rest of you?”.

Caleb’s mouth opened and closed, all words having abandoned him.

“Just because you were there, doesn’t mean you could’ve changed anything about what happened. Yes, it’s shitty and it’s unfair, but it’s awful bold of you to assume that you know better than the Gods,” Yasha finally turned to look at Caleb. Tears had smudged the black shadow around her eyes. Stripes of pale white skin were a stark contrast. She pulled a leg up, resting her elbow on her knee.

Caleb was the first to break their eye contact, taking a final puff of his cigarette. The muscles of his chest were pulled taut, but he had nothing left to cry. He let the hot smoke sit in the back of his throat as he thought. Caduceus had shared similar sentiments with him, but that didn’t make him want to listen anymore. 

“We all miss him, Caleb, but you and I both know that we had something different with him. So, we either start living for ourselves, or we let him down,” Yasha sniffed, brusquely wiping her nose with a fist, “He knew we could be more than people assume, but we need to find it in ourselves to actually prove him right,”.

Looking at Caleb and Yasha, it was clear that neither of them had any sense of loyalty that could ever outweigh their sense of self-preservation. Together, they were the textbook definition of “when the going gets tough, the tough get going”. Recent times though seemed to be present an opportunity. For the first time in a long time, Caleb and Yasha had people that called them home; a family of sorts that loved and cared for them. Their new family presented them with a dreaded ultimatum. Either they could stay, and in turn, risk losing a home all over again; or they could leave, and disappoint the only people that seemed to have faith in them. 

Yasha had made up her mind to stay a long time ago, but Caleb wasn’t so sure. Leaving the Nein at Glory Run Road was painful, but he wasn’t convinced it was the wrong thing to do. When they had arrived at his doorstep, on the other hand, he wasn’t so sure. If they didn’t care about him, they never would have bothered to look further than Hupperdook. The hopeful thought was short-lived as doubt crept back in, painting Caleb’s thoughts in sickly hues.

While true, the Nein had tracked him across the Empire and then some, Caleb found himself wondering if his life with them was worth living, if they were a constant reminder of his failures. He royally fucked everything up with them and knew they were too trusting in him. They were all better off without him. It wasn’t their fault that he was a horrible person, but their company was a painful reminder of that fact. Caleb cleared his throat, extinguishing his cigarette in the mud by his feet.

“If you want my opinion though,” Yasha smirked at the thought. As if she hadn’t already been giving her own opinion on the matter, “Quit throwing yourself a pity party and grow the fuck up. Sitting around in your angst is a waste of time and an insult to his memory,”.

Caleb coughed out a chestful of smoke in surprise. Yasha’s indelicate words felt like a slap in the face. To say that Caleb would rather die than insult Mollymauk’s memory was no exaggeration, and for Yasha to then imply that he had so grievously insulted him? It was heart-shattering. He leaned forward over his outstretched legs, trying to catch his breath. Hands shaking, Caleb couldn’t hear much past his own blood rushing through his veins. Anger came first as an impulse, but quickly dissipated, giving way to its true face of pain. The twisted vine of thorns around his heart pulled tighter, seeming to rip into his chest. There was a moment of clarity that broke down his walls, sending truth crashing into him in waves. Caduceus and Yasha were right. Though he had denied it before, there was no way that he could now. Every action for the sake of the “greater good” was branded with selfishness masquerading as self-preservation. 

Yasha could see the thoughts forming in Caleb’s mind, wreaking utter havoc. As hard as it was to watch, she knew it was the only way that any of them could move forward. The sun had begun it’s early descent below the horizon despite the early hour of the day. Golden light streamed out in a halo around the sunset, reaching out in bright stripes. Yasha stood up, knocking the dirt from her pants and cloak. Caleb made no sign of acknowledging her movement, much less that he intended to move at all. 

She sighed. She had forgotten how long it took to recover from the most painful point of grieving. Kneeling down, she rolled up the bedroll, strapping it to her own back. Yasha took Caleb’s hands in her own, starting to warm his stiff fingers. Carefully, she then proceeded to loosen his grasp around the periapt, slipping the long chain around his neck. He hardly made a sound when she pulled him to stand, leading him back down to the base. Yasha tucked Caleb under her arm, steering him down the muddy path. With the help of the thawed trail and the sloping decline, it wasn’t long before they made it back to town. 

“You think you can make it home?” Yasha rubbed Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb didn’t reply, staring down at his boots. “Do you want to come back to the house? Beau finally got the fireplace finished,” He sniffled and shook his head. Yasha furrowed her brow, taking a moment to think. Without saying another word, she took Caleb to the only helpful person she could think of.

“Oh hello friends,” Caduceus smiled at his unexpected visitors. He flipped a tea towel over his shoulder, stepping aside to let them in. Yasha slightly smiled, meanwhile, Caleb was internally combusting. 

Was his first breakdown not embarrassing enough that she felt the need to burden Caduceus with another? Yasha’s palm pressed to his back pushed him past the doorway and urged him to sit on a stool beside the stove. The heat from the stove didn’t seem to be any match for the embarrassed blush on his cheeks. Overwhelmed and trying to ignore the embarrassment in his gut, Caleb summoned Frumpkin to his lap.

“Would you both like some tea?” Caduceus spoke up, a slight shiver running down his spine from the draft of cold air. Yasha grunted in confirmation, while Caleb’s nod would have been missed, had Caduceus not have so observant. He rest a hand on Yasha’s arm, nodding towards the sink aside, speaking low under the crackle of the stove. 

“Are you alright?” he spoke with great concern.

“I need your help,” she sighed, leaning up against the counter.

Caduceus furrowed his brow, sifting through multicolored jars of tea leaves. He selected a few, placing a few pinches in a strainer, “Is everything okay?”.

Yasha made a strained face, “Kind of? I talked to him about Molly, finally,”.

“Ohh,” Caduceus drew out the sound, “I understand. How did it go?”.

“That’s the thing… I told him that he needed to move on, in so many words,”.

“What did you really tell him?” Caduceus’ gentle tone cut through Yasha’s stalling like a hot knife.

“That… that he was insulting Mollymauk’s memory by throwing himself a pity party... and he needs to live his own life since we can’t change anything,” she spoke slowly, trying to gauge Caduceus’ feelings on the matter. He softly smiled, spooning golden honey into teacups. No matter how much she ever told him, he always seemed to know exactly what was going on. He set the strainer on a saucer, brushing loose tea leaves from his palms.

“I think you and I both know that that was not the most eloquent way of handling it. However, we would be lying to ourselves if we said we thought there was another solution that was as effective as it was efficient,” Caduceus gestured with his hands as if they were two contrasting scales, “As much as I hate to see him in pain, I think this is one of the first major steps to Caleb living his own life,”.

Yasha nodded slowly. Caduceus flipped open the mouth of a white enamel kettle as he muttered under his breath. A faint glimmer of light spilled out of the top as summoned water rose up to the brim. He handed the teapot to Yasha, indicating to a burner on the stove that was now glowing faintly red. She ran her thumb over the rabbits and birds that were painted on the side in soft reds and blues. An orange fox sat nestled below a berry bush, paint long since chipped from the white cap of its tail. 

The melody of an old song came to mind, causing her heart to teeter on the sweet side of melancholic nostalgia. She could almost hear Mollymauk’s voice beside her as he sang loudly about the fox that stole the farmer’s goose. Her fingers twitched as they recalled the memory of playing a fiddle during the late nights at the carnival. For a coin or a pint, the two would sing and play for whoever would be so kind as to not kick them out on their asses. 

The innate twitch of her fingers caused water within to shift its weight, reminding her of her task. Yasha apologetically smiled at Caduceus, placing the kettle on the range. Shaking herself from her memory, her heart had teetered back over to the darker side of nostalgia. The feeling of knowing that she had grown far past what she remembered, rendering it utterly alien, was sinking in. Time’s passage had the strange ability to make the familiar anything but. It was only natural that the memory of an extraordinary tiefling would be no exception.

“I should go,” Yasha bristled, “Thank you for your help,”.

She sharply turned on her heel, adjusting her fur cloak on her shoulder. Before anyone could protest, she had left out the front door. Caleb looked to Caduceus for an answer, to which he merely waved his hand in dismissal. As much as it had seemed that Yasha was lecturing Caleb, Caduceus had a feeling that she was lecturing herself just as much. 

During the hushed conversation, Caleb had finally found it within himself to calm down marginally. Exhaustion sat on his shoulders while his heartbeat continued to pound in his ears. He could feel the makings of a migraine beginning behind his eyes. Regardless of his frustration, Yasha was probably right to come to Caduceus for help. There wasn’t any one member of the original Nein who was particularly proficient in talking about their emotions. 

Over the sound of the fire and his own heart, Caleb heard the teapot’s shrill cry begin to build. Caduceus turned his attention back to the stove, removing the kettle from the burner and gingerly placing the strainer inside. He hooked his fingers through the handles of the teacups, taking the kettle’s handle with his other hand. Caduceus pulled a cushion over to sit beside Caleb. He placed the cups before himself, carefully pouring the tea.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, though they both knew that he’d known the answer for a while.

Caleb simply shrugged, scratching behind Frumkpin’s ears. Caduceus let the silence build awkwardly between them. He had been kind enough to not subject Caleb to the silent treatment before, but today was different. He was starting to employ tough love.

Caduceus cleared his throat before taking a slow sip of his tea. The pregnant pause was pressing down on Caleb, seeming to push his emotions out through force. After some time, Caleb sighed, setting Frumpkin down at his feet.

“It’s a lot,” his voice was hardly louder than a murmur. Caduceus’ ears flicked at the sound. He sat forward, setting his now-empty cup beside his feet.

Caleb dragged a hand across his jaw, “I don’t know what I can say anymore… It’s just… I feel I have been sad for a very long time, and I thought it was for a very good reason. But after today, it just seems like I have been sabotaging everything that Mollymauk stood for,”.

Caduceus hummed in understanding, slipping an arm around Caleb’s waist. Unlike every other time, he did not stiffen at the pressure on his spine. Instead, Caleb relaxed into the touch. He was tired of running from everything in his life. He was tired of fighting everything good that crossed his path. He was tired of sabotaging it all and starting a new life each time things were ruined. All he wanted was a moment to stop everything and just try to breathe. Caduceus adjusted to kneel beside Caleb, slipping his snow-dampened coat from his shoulders. With a mumble, Caleb summoned an ethereal hand that hung the coat by the door. 

“I’m sorry you have had to deal with me in this state… It is unlike me to be like… this,” Caleb couldn’t bring himself to meet Caduceus’ eyes. 

Caduceus reached away to pull up another cushion beside him. Coaxing Caleb to sit with him on the floor, he finally caught his gaze.

“I have never once had to ‘deal’ with you, Caleb. I spend time with you because I care about you and value what we have,” Caduceus pressed a hand to Caleb’s cheek, “I’m not sure what people would ever call what I feel for you something so… detached. You aren’t a responsibility or a burden. I’m not with you because of guilt or as a service. I’m here and I stay because you are a remarkable man and I should be so lucky as to learn from you,”.

Caduceus’ eyebrows drew together in an expression of empathy and adoration, “Life is a mix of good and bad, but it is a great disservice to say that any one "bad" thing defines a lifetime. You are no different. A handful of bad does not mean that you can’t be good ever again. I used to think that people are only people. That good and bad were assigned randomly. I know now that my thinking was wrong. People…” he paused, weighing his words, “People are good to start. From there, there are choices that make people bad and choices that make people good. You are a good person, Caleb Widogast,”.

A bright blush spread across his face, and if his heart wasn’t beating in his ears already, it surely was now. His stomach was flipping over itself as his brain went into overtime. His mouth had gone dry, his palms were sweaty, and he was hyper-aware of the hand cupping his cheek. All at once, Caleb felt like a teenager all over again. Fire ran through his veins as he tried to listen to what Caduceus was saying. He could hardly focus on anything other than how nice Caduceus’ lips looked. So soft and kind, when they curled up into a smile, Caleb nearly melted into a puddle.

Caduceus noticed Caleb’s distance as he spoke, trying to pin the strange look that he wore. It didn’t look like he was upset anymore, but it looked like he was still searching for something. Caduceus adjusted in his seat, leaning the slightest bit closer. He softly smiled, trying to reassure Caleb. Of what he was reassuring him was unclear, though. The brief moment Caduceus had taken to ponder the question came slamming to a halt when Caleb closed the distance between them. One of his hands shot out, taking a fistful of Caduceus' tunic, and jerking him forward. Caleb pressed a chaste kiss to Caduceus’ lips, face burning crimson. The surprised and dumbfounded expression on his face quickly faded as Caduceus’ hand that rest on Caleb’s cheek kept him close.

It was time to start living life in full again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy howdy this chapter took a turn that i wasn't even expecting,,,, things are gonna be a lil complicated but im really excited to write all their dynamics n stuff,,, i just really love critical role


	10. Robin and Marian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollymauk comes home.

CHAPTER 10  
“You remember, Caleb?” Nila’s wide eyes matched Mollymauk’s own.

It was hard to explain since it wasn’t just a memory. There wasn’t a single event or moment he could recall about the man, but the emotion was innate. Something deep within himself reminded him of the incredible love he had. In a way, he almost felt a little foolish for having ever forgotten him in the first place.

“I don’t fully remember him, but I remember the... idea of him,” Mollymauk carefully chose his words, trying to explain the abstract, “It’s like looking at the memories through the lens of a kaleidoscope. I know what it’s supposed to be, but everything is moving. I remember what he felt like and how we were… I guess… I don’t know how to explain it,”.

“I suppose that I understand what you mean,” Nila beamed, nudging the pouch towards him again, “Try again. The earth is reminding you of your destiny, and it would be a shame to ignore its call,”.

Keg was nearly turned completely around on her horse at this point, staring with wide eyes. First of all, this guy had rose from the grave, which was uncommon to say the least. Then he had no memories and only knew of the Nein from a note in his pocket. And to top it all off, he started to remember from Nila’s weird bag full of dirt and questionable berries? If she didn’t know that their lives were already a bizarre chain of impossible events, she would think that someone dressed as Mollymauk was trying to pull a fast one on them.

Mollymauk leaned closer again, taking a deep smell once more. Different from the first time, nothing grabbed him like Caleb had. He furrowed his brow, trying to concentrate on any smell at all. He could smell cinnamon and stale ale with the underlying tang of the wharf and salted shores. Sweat and petrichor broke through, morphing into the unmistakable scent of a peppery smoke. The mix stung his nostrils as he pulled away with a loud sneeze. He wiped his nose on the edge of his sleeve, trying to shake the itch in his sinuses. Trying to make heads or tails of the smells was sending him in circles. It wasn’t as clear as before, but it pulled him back to something… Whatever something was. Everything was familiar and foreign at the same time, like smelling your mother’s perfume on your clothes long after she left. The uncanny feeling of not belonging in your own life seemed to be a common theme. Go figure.

“What do you smell?” Nila rubbed his arm excitedly.

Mollymauk scrunched up his nose, reaching for half-formed thoughts, “I smell the harbor and a passed storm… Spices and stale mead… I don’t… There’s sweat and humidity and…” he gave an exasperated sigh. These scents were more abstract and only brought to mind vague colors of blues and greens. His stomach flipped as the feeling of being at sea during a storm took over. Mollymauk’s vision went in and out of focus as nausea sat in the base of his throat. 

Nila watched the color drop from his face and immediately halted the horses. She was barely able to help Mollymauk down before he lurched forward into the underbrush, sick to his stomach. Keg hopped down at well, standing beside Nila with an expression that was impossible to read. 

“I know I say this a lot, but what the fuck is going on,” Keg scrunched her nose as she watched Mollymauk from a distance.

“I really wish I knew, but I don’t know,” Nila admitted, a look of defeat sitting in her temples, “I can only imagine how hard reincarnation is on the body, but I fear that there is more to the situation than meets the eye. We may have to try and seek out a healer, or even a mage,”.

Mollymauk righted himself, shoving a handful of snow into his mouth. He let it melt, spitting out the taste of bile from his tongue. He weakly coughed, straightening his clothes.

“I don’t think it’s that serious,” he reassured, giving the two of them a meaningful look, “It’s not an easy process, but I’m not dying already, well at least relatively speaking anyway,”.

“While that may be true, there are complications to reincarnation. I know that to be true as well,” Nila helped him back onto their horse, nodding to Keg. The dwarf snapped her reins, horses picking up on the queue and resuming their pace. An air of trepidation wound around the trees and their party as they pushed deeper still into the thicket. Nila’s thoughts were tied up in knots as she stared intently into the forest. Despite her gaze, nothing was registering in her mind. Mollymauk looked between the taut reins and her stiff posture, recognizing the tension all too well. He leaned forward, resting a hand on Nila’s shoulder.

“Despite my abysmal memory, I’m a really good listener,” he said, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze. The gesture reeled Nila’s thoughts back in. She shifted the reins to one hand, rubbing her eyes with the other. She looked over her shoulder to see a bright smile from Mollymauk. ‘He should know what comes next,’ Nila made up her mind, turning in her seat to better look at him.

“In my tribe, there were some other firbolgs that thought they could cheat death. That they knew better than nature itself. They pursued old gods and dark magics that cursed all of us,” Nila’s voice wavered, “It first was a blessing. It brought back our elders and helped us stand our ground against the beasts in the forest. Ever since the war, corruption has grown, and the beasts have only gotten stronger. But it never was meant to last. The old gods required sacrifices and blood. It drove the few that pursued it to madness. They burned our homes and committed unspeakable acts. But even worse…” 

Tears began to fall from Nila’s big brown eyes, fur matting to her cheeks. Her voice could hardly be heard, creaking out between deep breaths that did nothing to help her calm down. Mollymauk rubbed her shoulder, feeling his own heartache under the weight of her memories. Nila hiccupped, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. 

“If you don’t want to continue, you don’t have to,” Mollymauk reassured her.  
Nila shook her head, clearing her throat. She took a moment and a sip of water, letting the silence settle her shaking hands. 

“No. You need to know what happened,” she shook her head again, “Not even that. I need to tell you what happened. For their legacy and their memory. Souls live on through and around us and it is our job- my job to honor them by sharing their legacies in story,”.

Mollymauk nodded in solemn understanding, giving Nila all the time she needed.  
“The worst part was that the people that were… brought back, were never the same. I don’t know if it was because of the god or their lack of memories, but they were scared and angry. They would lash out against the beasts, which was wonderful, but then they would turn around and lash out against us… Against our children. The worshippers in the tribe desecrated under the name of their gods and magics, but those that came back answered to no god or power. I once lived with people I loved more than life itself, but when I left, they were nothing but strangers. I do not know by what means you were brought back, Mollymauk Tealeaf, but I pray they were noble ones,”.

There was nothing to say when Nila finished. Mollymauk couldn’t help but ask himself what he could even start to say in response. An apology was as futile as a kettle of water on a wildfire, but to offer sympathy was awful presumptuous for someone without life experiences or the memories to back them up. Resigning into the speechlessness he felt, Mollymauk looked out into the forest on watch. Deeper into the trees, he would catch a glimpse of sun in a spacious clearing or a wild animal lumbering by, occasional with babies in tow. About a mile from where the forest dissolved into flat plains, the trio set up camp for the evening. There was some time before the sun would set, but the air was beginning to cool around their campsite. Keg walked out into the bushes, setting snares on the off chance that a rodent may amble by. Nila and Mollymauk marked out a ring and started up a modest campfire. As it grew, the three of them gathered around it with the horses tethered nearby. Warming their stiff joints, none of them said a word, still sitting under the weight of Nila’s story. Nila fetched a pot from their tack, setting to work on making a stew from various root vegetables that had previously hung in mesh bags on either side of their saddles.

While waiting for the pot to boil, a trap snapped shut in the distance. Keg quickly set out to inspect it and after returning to her traps, she came back victoriously. Holding three, unlucky rabbits by their ears, she grinned as she deftly skinned them and set up pikes by the fire. Mollymauk smiled appreciatively while Nila’s smile was less enthusiastic.

After a warm dinner, Keg took up first watch. Nila had curled up into herself, quickly falling asleep, while Mollymauk struggled to relax. He reclined against a tree, closing his eyes in hopes that it would trick his body. A kick to the bottom of his foot startled him awake. He must have fallen asleep, the woods now dark and seemingly impenetrable. Keg stood at his feet with crossed arms and tired eyes.

“It’s your turn for watch, Sleeping Beauty,” she held out a hand, pulling Mollymauk up to stand. He yawned, stretching his hands up to the treetops. Keg rolled her eyes as he purposely took his sweet time gathering his things. Swaggering over to his post away from the fire, he gave Keg a melodramatic salute which was met with a middle finger. Mollymauk chuckled to himself, settling down with his scimitars drawn. Mollymauk looked around, listening carefully. It appeared that most of the forest was asleep, not a single branch or bush stirring. He softly hummed to himself as he continued watch.

Glancing down at the curved blades in his lap, the carnival glass seemed to glitter in the bit of moonlight that was able to break through the branches high above. Mollymauk craned his neck to look up at the sky. The closer they got to the tree line, the farther apart the trees grew, allowing more and more light to make its way through. Looking closer, he could make out the faintest tip of a crescent moon. His eyes traced the light it gave off, following the soft white rivers that dripped down through the leaves far above his head. It ran across branches and down the crackled bark, pooling in puddles across his shoulders.

Marveling in the light, Mollymauk took a moment to untie the ribbons that held his sleeves shut, slipping the arms of his undershirt up to his shoulders. Holding his bare arms out in the light, he paid no mind to the cold that pricked at his skin. A sense of peace drifted over him, setting his mind at ease for the first time since coming back.

“You really are something else,” he softly spoke to the stars, reaching his mind out to the Moonweaver, “You did this to me, right? I don’t know of anyone else who could play with fate so flippantly. But then again, I don’t really know anyone else in the first place,”.

Mollymauk could swear he felt the stars smile at that one, “I’ll take that as a yes then, but I still don’t understand why I got brought back here. I know can come back, but Mollymauk- I mean me- I’m old. I’m probably what around thirty years old? What could I possibly have done in the past that you wanted me to fix or finish?”.

The smell of ash and sage drifted through the night, catching him by surprise. It was that same smell from Nila’s bag. The one that reminded him of tattered long coats and days spent in libraries. Of wild auburn hair tied back after a long day of work. Of whiskey and molasses. Caleb.

“You brought me back for Caleb?” Mollymauk’s lips moved slowly, as he tried to put the images back into place. His thoughts were awkward and clumsy, like he was trying to do a thousand-piece-puzzle with mittens on. The branches overhead shifted and cracked as the temperature dropped further. Mollymauk should have been freezing by now, but strangely enough, he felt warm. With another crack came the shifting of branches, making way for the light that seemed to be pushing itself down from the moon in the sky. Mollymauk could feel the eagerness of new light as he tipped his chin up to welcome it.

In the instant that he felt the light on his face, Mollymauk was sent hurtling into a memory. For a moment, he felt like he was falling through an endless void, when he suddenly landed with his feet on solid ground. He shifted his balance slightly as his other senses began to fill in the blanks. Standing in the middle of a festival, Mollymauk could hear children playing in the street as adults filtered in and out of a bustling market. Looking around, he saw brightly painted stalls and bazaars, adorned with tapestries, baked goods, and just about everything he could even think of. A weight pressed itself into his palm, cold and smooth. Mollymauk brought his hand up, opening his fist to find a large strawberry. He paused, trying to figure out where he was, why he had a strawberry, and perhaps more importantly, how he got it in the first place.

Mollymauk pocketed the berry, continuing to survey his surroundings. As he made out carnival games and booths aplenty, the weight of a tentative hand appeared at the small of his waist. Mollymauk couldn’t help the splitting grin that stretched across his face instinctually. He turned to face the body to which the hand belonged and was met with a sight for the sorest of eyes.

“That was quite the win at trebuchet, ja?”.

He reached out to embrace Caleb, but his hands passed right through his chest, finding purchase in cold air rather than the contact he so badly desired. Caleb continued to speak but his voice was warped and unrecognizable, Mollymauk began to panic. Frantically, he stepped forward, scrambling to grab at his shoulder- his coat- anything. With each step forward, the distance between them grew. Mollymauk tried to scream out, but his mouth felt like it was full of dirt. He blinked and suddenly, he was falling again. 

Pawing at his mouth, the soil and gravel crumbled from his lips and surrounded him in a cloud of decaying earth. Mollymauk began to suffocate in the sediment, trying to spit out the stones that had lodged themselves under his tongue. The freefall came to an abrupt halt when rocky ground pressed up against Mollymauk’s shoulder blades. The dirt was replaced with a thick liquid that slipped past his lips. A cold weight pressed into his chest, pinning him prone. He tried to turn his head, but his own horns embedded themselves in the dirt, forcing his gaze up at the sky.

A liquid flowed from the corners of his mouth, past his collar bones, and across his throat. It stuck his hair to the back of his neck and began to dry in sticky tracks. Mollymauk knew it was his own blood. He tried to speak once more, fearing dirt would return and steal his voice again. The sound of his own voice surprised him as it croaked out from his lips.

“How bad is it?”.

A strong hand grabbed his shoulder, jolting him awake. Mollymauk looked around, absentmindedly rubbing at his chest. He didn’t remember falling asleep. Nila kneeled beside him, concern apparent across her face. Mollymauk couldn’t quite bring himself to reply as Nila explained that it was time to get a move on. She helped him up with a tug, taking a moment to drag her boot across the roots to muss up any signs of their presence. Setting out for another day, Mollymauk sat in silence behind Nila as they rode. Keg made biting quips, as had become the norm, but Mollymauk couldn’t find the energy to reply.

In the early morning, the moon was still faintly visible in the early morning sky. The ghostly silhouette made him gag in memory of the dream. Mollymauk clenched his jaw, ensuring that no dirt remained. As he gained one answer, more and more questions came in its place. He knew he died, sure. He knew that the Moonweaver brought him back, this was confirmed. He knew Caleb, kind of. But none of that answered questions of who he was before, why he was back, or where the hell he was supposed to go next. Since coming back, Mollymauk was positive he knew what he needed to do, and confident in his faith in the unknown. However, this new nightmare of a vision made him incredibly unsure of his purpose. This was clearly bigger than him, but it gave him even less answers than questions.

Staring off into space, Mollymauk didn’t even try to hide the defeat he felt. After some time, Nila tried to foster a small conversation to get him to come back around. Keeping the questions short and binary, she tried her best to encourage distraction. Mollymauk swatted away her questions with indifferent grunts in reply. There were far bigger things to worry about than asking whether or not he needed a sip of water.

After riding in a painful silence that stretched minutes into what felt like hours, the trio finally broke through the tree line and back out into the open. Back out in the open, it appeared that the sun had broken through and heated the fields enough to encourage a slight thaw. Instinctually, the horses picked up their pace over the smooth terrain. Nila and Keg spoke to one another about nearby steads for their nightly stay. There were some villages nearby, but if they pushed their pace, there was a chance they could hit Felderwin by nightfall. They attempted to include Mollymauk in the decision, but their questions fell upon indifferent ears. His shrug was enough agreement on his part for Nila and Keg to snap their reins. Falling into a light gallop, the horses seemed grateful to stretch their legs and shake the cold stiffness from their bodies.

Hours stretched on and, true to their word, the lights of Felderwin flickered in the distance as the dusk slipped into the darker night. Keg lead them around to a small inn, paying for their stay with a handful of silver. Offering a separate room to Mollymauk was merely a social nicety, they all knew that Mollymauk wouldn’t ever allow for them to pay for such a luxury. He dismissed the offer with the wave of a hand, muttering some comment about sleeping on the floor.

Their stay was uneventful and favorably warm for once. Even the wooden floor proved to be far warmer than the frozen dirt. Mollymauk hardly slept, involuntarily slipping in and out of nightmares when exhaustion got to be too much. Morning came and the three set out for another long day’s journey, despite their collective unspoken desire to stay longer. A handful of days further, and their path had given way to the outskirts of Zadash. Keg and Nila had reached their temporary destination but couldn’t seem to convince Mollymauk to stay.

“Why don’t you stay and see if anyone can help you find the Nein?” Nila offered, watching Mollymauk dismount with a flourish.

“This isn’t where I’m supposed to be,” he slightly smiled, looking at the city wall, “You two have been more than charitable to a fool like me, but it’s time that I find where I’m meant to be. Maybe we’ll meet again in another life,” Mollymauk slightly smiled, shouldering the small pack of supplies the two insisted he take with. He slightly waved, before setting off past the east side of the city wall. His compass seemed to be surer of itself lately, with the arrow wavering less and less each time he looked to it for guidance. The certainty was wonderful but terrifying. To be close to the end of a journey is a relief, but to be unsure of what awaits you is paralyzing. He tightened the grip on his walking stick, honing his focus in. He was looking for his friends.

Returning to the woods and fields of Wildemount alone was a difficult adjustment. Mollymauk had to get used to wedging himself up in trees and sleeping in short shifts once more. Travelling with a party seemed like a luxury akin to that of a feather mattress at this point. The nights were proving to be long, but the days were even longer as he pushed farther and farther along. Blistered and wind burnt, Mollymauk’s frustration grew as the mountains didn’t seem to be getting any closer than when he started. Cycling through the only three songs that he seemed to remember, his own voice was starting to get on his own nerves. His once pastel coat now wore a thick layer of dust and grime, muting the sun-bleached pastels even further. Tugging it around him at night, Mollymauk would softly remark that his past self should have just bought a brown jacket if it was going to look like this after a long day.

He had lost count of the days a while ago, but Mollymauk assumed he must be at least a week into his journey. However, that information was useless considering he didn’t know how far he still had to go. On what was either the eighth or thirtieth night, Mollymauk settled into the base of a hill, digging a slight depression to hide his form. He kept his back to the way he came, trying to focus on his forward momentum. Setting his scimitars across his lap, Mollymauk dug around in his pocket for his compass. Opening it, he watched the needle spin in lazy circles before coming to settle away from him. He carefully brought the compass up to his eye line, tracing the direction with his gaze to where it aligned with the landscape. The arrow seemed to point to the intersection of two silhouetted mountains. The moon was starting to rise from behind the junction and just barely perceptible was a column of smoke. Mollymauk’s heart leapt in his throat as he gripped the compass harder.

He reached up with his other hand, rubbing at his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Squinting his eyes, he realigned the compass, and looked back out. The faint shadow of smoke was unmistakable against the pale white moon. Mollymauk fought back a whoop as excitement flooded his previously worn-down senses. Judging the distance, it would be a few more days of travel, but the prospect of any civilization was promising. 

The next morning, Mollymauk nearly beat the sun in starting the day. Adjusting his jacket and sheathing his scimitars, he set off with a renewed energy. Mollymauk was bound and determined to cut down on the travel time, conserving the breath he would normally use to sing to press on even faster. He imagined sinking into a warm bath, finally able to get the dirt out from under his nails. Though he had attempted quick washes in streams, Mollymauk knew that he still carried the dirt from his grave in every seam and crease of his being. It was unnerving and frankly, unhygienic.

The junction between the mountains stretched higher and higher, and much to Mollymauk’s delight, the compass seemed to be taking him right to the valley between the two. Each night he watched as the stream of smoke grew into a column, and then a hearty plume. He would stare at the shadow of smoke against the moon for hours, imagining what waited for him. He thought about the Nein. A lot. 

In the past, he was tormented by nightmares, but lately, he had come to realize that they were more than just bad dreams. Though they were startling and confusing, he began to pick out people and shapes from the haze. It took him a while to scrap together the pieces that lingered when he awoke, but eventually, the people from Keg’s stories and his nightmares took shape. The stoic and tall pale woman was Yasha, and she seemed to always have a short figure wrapped in navy stuck to her side- who could only be Beauregard. There was then, of course, Caleb. Ever since Nila’s pouch brought his memory back, Caleb seemed to disappear from his dreams. It was frustrating because remembering Caleb was the closest that Mollymauk had gotten to remembering anything more than hair color and stature. Pushing the frustration of amnesia aside, he remembered the sky-blue figure of Jester. The two green figures took him longer to sort out as different entities, but Nott and Fjord eventually came to light.

Mollymauk dug around in his brain as he trudged past the hilled farmsteads that populated the foothills. He couldn’t remember what the others were like, well not really. He knew that Yasha was big and quiet, while Nott was small and fast. Fjord seemed to be easy-going, at least compared to Beauregard who appeared to be… intense. Caleb was reclusive but seemed to have a soft spot for the others, especially Jester. His mind wandered, conjuring up elaborate profiles for the Nein, that were undoubtedly fraught with errors and misconceptions. 

Dry winter grass began gave way as it joined a coarse gravel path packed tightly into the dirt. The crunch of Mollymauk’s boots on the pebbles was music to his ears. Stone paths, no matter the intricacy, were a sign of civilized society. Gravel turned to cobblestone mere minutes later, much to his excitement. Mollymauk had to hold a hand up to protect his eyes from the sunlight that was poking out from the cloud cover and directly into his eyes. Squinting ahead, shops made of weathered stone lined the gravel road. Pushing forward past the town’s wall, there were no soldiers or guards to question his entrance, much less indicate that he’d found a town and not a ghost town. The clanking of a blacksmith’s forge was the only sound that seemed to exist other than his footsteps. One or two people made their way between buildings, not even giving him a second glance. Could it be that the Mighty Nein, the infamous and morally ambiguous mercenary group, was in a town like this? Mollymauk stopped at the juncture of two paths, leaning on his walking stick. Keg’s stories had made them seem so fantastical, but it appeared that she had elaborated just like any other storyteller, why did he think her word was gospel? 

It was awfully quiet for a town that should be celebrating and in varying degrees of chaos. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out his compass and watched the arrow flit back and forth around the center. It was clearly torn between different directions, Mollymauk grinned. The Nein were a group of multiple people that were in different parts of the city. Flicking it shut and returning it to his pocket, Molly began to whistle the first song he remembered. 

He turned around to face the source of the smoke he had to thank for his navigation. It was a mansion that stuck out deeper in the city like a garish sore thumb. Mollymauk clicked his tongue. Though he was a man that appreciated the more opulent thing in life, this mansion in bad taste and bad design. Turning on his heel, he had hardly taken a step before the sound of glass shattering on stone stopped him. A way up the road to his left, his eyes tracked past dark red wine that had splattered across the stones and up to the person that stood behind him.

Recognition scrambled Mollymauk’s thoughts, making it nearly impossible to focus his eyes. Reddish-brown hair was longer now pulled back into a loose plait. His heart ached at the sight- it had grown out since they last saw each other. But the jacket, the scarf, the stubble; those were all recognizable as being in the same dishevelled state as he remembered. Mollymauk swallowed thickly, half afraid that his mouth would fill with dirt and he would wake up.

Mollymauk watched the man’s lips move but couldn’t make out the sound of his voice over the thrumming of blood rushing through his ears. Suddenly, he was running. They were both running. Closing the gap between them in a handful of strides, they knew full well that it was more than the few feet between them that had been keeping them apart. Their arms moved in a flurry, clumsily moving around each other to arrange in an embrace.

“Hello Caleb,” Mollymauk chuckled, giving him a hefty pat between his shoulder blades. Caleb had quickly stooped down and buried his face into the junction of Mollymauk’s collar bone. He drew in ragged breaths, clutching fistfuls of his jacket. Knee’s buckling, it took him a moment to realize that Mollymauk had said anything at all. The impact of the hand on his back broke his stupor and he slightly pulled away. Still clutching at Mollymauk’s sleeves, his eyes mapped out the facial features that were uncannily familiar.

“I thought you were dead…” Caleb’s voice was barely a hoarse whisper, tears wet on his cheeks. 

Mollymauk smirked, his mouth quirking up to one side, “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily,”.

At that moment, Caleb had three distinct feelings of confusion, regret, and relief. After all this time and everything that had transpired in the interim, if he had not learned anything, it was a waste. To ignore the advice that he sought from others and the healing he began to endure- it would all be for nothing if he did not change. He looked up at Mollymauk’s eyes, taking his hands and interlacing their fingers. 

Though his voice shook, and his heart was beating out of his chest, he focused his thoughts, “I am foolish to lament the loss of what never was, but even a bigger fool to let it happen a second time,”.

Mollymauk began to ask a question when his lips were met with the crash of Caleb’s. His lips were cold from the brisk day and his stubble poked at Mollymauk’s chin, but the kiss it could only be described as being absolutely sublime. They both scrambled to pull each other closer, Mollymauk finding a grip on Caleb’s lapels, while Caleb’s arm wrapped around the small of Mollymauk’s waist and anchored him flush beside him. 

Caleb slightly pulled away to catch his breath, giving Mollymauk the opportunity to press kisses all over his face. He still knew little about who he was to Caleb before his death, but this wasn’t a terrible start. He gently nipped at Caleb’s Adam's apple before pulling away himself. Caleb was blushed a vibrant red and still trying to catch his breath. A slight smile played on his lips as Mollymauk pulled him back into their embrace, tucking Caleb’s head under his chin. Any other day of the week and he would have been embarrassed, but modesty be damned when the dead rise again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry for the involuntary hiatus! im studying abroad for a hot minute and have been crazy busy with just about everything,,, i hope you guys like this chapter!!!

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys! please let me know if you have any questions, comments, criticisms, or corrections!! im straying from the canon quite a bit, especially with items and plot, but it just be like that sometimes. if there's anything you wanna see in the coming chapters, feel free to comment and ill see what i can do! i want this to be a fun read for you! <3
> 
> this work's dedicated to my best friend, morgan! ((if i find out that youre reading this without gettin to ep 26,,, you're dead meat, kid))


End file.
